Cold Blood
by TheDaedalys
Summary: Young assassin Darlayah Dawn-Bringer is living her life as a Blade, an assassin and student in learning the Voice. But a murder takes place, and they have called for Darlayah herself using the one thing that connected her and her mother - a poem. With the murderer on the loose, what will come first: finding the Dragonborn, or finding the killer?
1. Chapter 1

**AN: ONLY GALDUR, DAGUR AND DARLAYAH BELONG TO ME. THE REST OF THE CHARACTERS ARE OWNED BY BETHESDA :3**

* * *

Rain beat the wooden walls of the building, producing a sound that seemed harsh and dangerous, intimidating almost. The light of the flames in the fire pit made the shadows from the furniture dance across the room in a threatening way. The night was just going on forever.

A young woman lay awake in her bed. She couldn't seem to sleep, thoughts circling around in her mind as she remembered what had happened.

She had recently set out on a mission, a hunt. She had to kill someone. She knew the target deserved it, and it wasn't the fact it was a haunting memory, it was the fact she enjoyed the kill. The thrill of escaping the city before the guards took notice. Laughing as she rode away from the place as fast as she could-

**_CRASH._**

The heavy rain turned into a thunderstorm, the sound echoing in the walls of Breezehome, making it even more difficult for the woman to close her eyes. The thunder clapped outside, threatening to awaken the entire population of Whiterun. The sound was deafening.

The woman's name was Darlayah, Darlayah Dawn-bringer, known by her friends as Dawn, or Dee. She was a Breton, a race from High Rock. She was about twenty-eight years old, and had many associations with various guilds and deities, including the scorned Daedra. Darlayah was also a feared assassin, member of the Thieves Guild, and thane of various cities. She was particularly well known.

**_BANG._**

More thunder. More lightning. More loud noises to keep her awake. Sighing, Darlayah got out of bed, trudging past her housecarl's room, down the stairs. She swung her sleepy body onto the bench next to the wall, and placed her head on the surface with a _thump._She groaned when the pain finally hit her, and she wondered if there was a shout that could disperse the clouds and end the storm…

Wait. Shouts? No, not the yelling kind you may be thinking of. Shouts as in the Thu'um, a power used by the Dragons, a power rarely seen, a power mastered by few. Darlayah was no master, yet she had some experience with shouts, being acquainted with the Greybeards. How she knew them? That's a long story, one that could be told later.

As Darlayah raised her head, she looked as a thin light came from under the door, the rain still beating the house. _She had been awake all night._ How her housecarl, Lydia, had slept through the horrendous storm, she did not know, and couldn't be bothered to find out. She grabbed some bread from a sack nearby, and chomped away in frustration, as a yawn came from upstairs. Lydia must have woken up. Darlayah heard her come down the stairs, yet pretended not to take any notice.

"Morning, my thane." Lydia said, stretching and searching the sack for some food. She found a sweet roll, and Darlayah watched with envy as she munched away at the delicious cake. _How did I miss that..., _She thought. "Morning Lydia." she simply replied.

"How did you sleep, my thane?" she asked, while Darlayah stared at her bread, not feeling hungry anymore. She stirred, turning around on the bench to give her housecarl eye contact. "Errm…I slept fine…the storm kept me up for a bit." Darlayah lied, thinking about the dreadful noise the storm had made. A thought then popped up into her head. She had something she needed to take care of. "Lydia, I kinda need to get some…_work_…done." She lingered on the word _'work'. _It wasn't really work, more like _murder._

Lydia understood. She was well aware of Darlayah's...associations...and was almost perfectly fine with it all. Sometimes, however, she would be slightly afraid of her thane. Being a sort of servant to an assassin wasn't the most appealing job. Especially when you slept in the same house as them. "I might be gone a while, so take care of the house, okay?" Darlayah then added, and Lydia nodded, replying with the usual, and quite annoying, 'yes, my thane'.

After throwing the wasted bread into the fire pit, Darlayah headed back into her room, flinging her brown chest open, revealing all sorts of clothes and robes. She pulled out a simple black and red robe, and a dark brown hood, throwing them on carelessly, her long brown hair leaking from the sides of the hood. On her face, her red war paint seemed to be a bit brighter, probably because of the red on her garments.

She headed to her end-table, which was right next to her huge bed, and opened it, gleaming gems and beautiful jewelry, which Darlayah may or may not have stolen from several strangers. She had a sort of obsession with amulets, being a mage, and enjoyed enchanting random items to see what she could create. Divine amulets were her favorite.

Her gaze lingered on her amulet of Mara, and she smiled, taking the necklace gently, lowering her hood and placing the amulet around her neck. She then looked at the various rings, but none appealed to her. Closing the drawer, she grabbed two Daedric daggers (one of which she stole from some guy she killed the year before), and headed down the stairs. On the way, Lydia offered her a health potion. She knew exactly what sort of _work _ Darlayah was off to do. Smiling kindly, Darlayah thanked her, before taking it and putting it in the pouch on her thick, black belt. She might need it for later.

She then left Breezehome, and to her surprise, most of the rain had stopped, and became a light shower. The sun smiled down on Whiterun, offering it's golden rays across the city, glittering on the puddles left during the night by the storm. As she looked around the town, she noticed children playing in the puddles, and several men clearing away objects which had been flung around by the storm. Guards strutted past her, with the occasional, 'morning, thane', or 'no lollygagging'. She shifted her blue gaze to the huge gate which closed off Whiterun from the rest of Skyrim. Darlayah then casually walked past the blacksmith, trying to hide her fatigue. Adrianne, a woman who worked at the forge, waved hello, and the breton returned the friendly gesture.

"Morning, Darlayah." she said, smiling. Darlayah went over to see her. Adrianne and Darlayah were fairly close, but they rarely talked. "Hey Adrianne. Any new jobs?" the breton asked, trying to keep her eyes open. Adrianne shrugged, before heading to the workbench next to her shop. "Just a bunch of swords for the guards. Nothing much." she replied, working on the metal sword on the bench. Darlayah turned to leave. "If you need any help, just ask. I'm always willing to help." she said, and waved goodbye to her friend, heading over to the entrance of Whiterun.

As she pushed open the large wooden gates, she gazed out to the rest of the Hold, and at the huge mountains that bordered the grassy plains. The sight never failed to make her smile. She stepped out into Skyrim, ignoring the fact she left the gates open. The guards shut them reluctantly behind her, as she ran down the path from the city walls to the stables, where her palomino horse stood, pale coat glistening in the morning sun. The horse immediately looked over to Darlayah, whinnying in delight. It cantered out of the stables (as it wasn't closed in), and towards her, and only then did she notice the poor creature was soaking wet and dirty, dust in the animal's coat from the huge storm. Darlayah sighed. She patted the muzzle of the horse gently, hushing it in his excited state. "Sorry Dagur. Looks like you can't go anywhere today, not like this." she whispered to her steed, and his head drooped in what seemed to be disappointment. "First…you need a good wash!" she added cheerily._Maybe washing Dagur might wake me up a bit,_ she thought, watching with a grin as the horse trotted about in excitement.

* * *

After grooming Dagur, the young breton grabbed her tack from the stable's wall, which was sheltered from the night's wind and rain, and wondered if she would need a saddle or not. She could ride bareback, and preferred to, so she simply placed the saddle back on the wall and went over to her horse with a bridle and reins. Dagur allowed his rider to slip on and adjust the bridle, clipping on the reins and stroke his pale cream mane.

Just as Darlayah tried to jump onto her horse's back, something made him stir. His head was right up, ears swivelling around, before pointing backward in distress. She calmed him, somewhat annoyed. She tried again, and the same thing happened. Did he want a saddle? She headed back to the tack wall, grabbed the saddle, and strapped it on him, but when she tried to mount him, he almost went galloping around the stables. Something was irritating the horse. Sighing, she stroked the horse, soothing him, while she leapt onto his back, this time, successfully. _Maybe Dagur isn't meant for crazy adventures_, she thought to herself, _especially not _my_ crazy adventures._

* * *

Darlayah had been riding for about an hour. The rain had dispersed, leaving the occasional white fluffy cloud blotched like ink across the blue sky. Her horse, Dagur, was acting perfectly fine now, content with the simple trot through the countryside. The breton was confused; why had he been acting so flighty earlier? Was something bothering him? She was even considering leaving him at the stables and taking Trew, a chestnut brown horse who was as stubborn as a mule.

As Dawnstar approached, she began to sing to herself, a strange yet mysterious little tune, and Dagur listened intently.

_'"I have died everyday, just_

_Waiting for you to come home,_

_Lying on my bed, all alone,_

_And you still haven't come home._

_It's been a long, cold year._

_My cold heart grows restless,_

_Waiting for you to come home._

_The stone floors are cracking,_

_And you still haven't come home._

_It's been a long, cold year._

_And the bird's song is a crow call._

_A sharp rap on the door._

_The crow's call, is a bird's song._

_And the dagger ends all."_

The bitter cold wind had little effect on her smooth, sweet voice. Her black and red robes seemed to block out the harsh winds, or most of it at least, and it soon began to collect the snow flakes, which contrasted against the thick black fabric. Her dark song became a quiet hum, and eventually, turned into silence.

* * *

She had arrived at Dawnstar. Dismounting her steed, she tied him to a tall wooden fence, before treating him with a small carrot. Dagur whinnied in delight, munching loudly on the crunchy treat. A few strangers glanced at her with odd looks, some even shaking their heads. They knew why she was here.

Stomping through the layer of snow that covered the path, she went into a small home, daggers hidden but easy to reach for. Darlayah looked around the house.

It was seemingly empty, empty mead bottles near the fireplace, bed untouched, raw meat laid out on the table…it was all…suspicious.

**_CLANG._**

A sharp clanging sound made the breton unsheathe a dagger subconsciously, and she positioned her self in a defensive stance, as she crept towards a wardrobe. It was open, but empty. Was it one of those secret doors? Instead of gently opening the door, she forcefully kicked down the wooden back, and it splintered into several pieces, revealing a short staircase delving into a small basement room. She stormed down the stairs, knowing her presence was already known, and unsheathed her other dagger, both clean and restless for bloodshed. As Darlayah landed at the bottom stair, a large black coffin which was lying in the centre of the square room burst open, the lid flying across the room as a woman leapt out of it, grinning madly. Darlayah stared. She was never told her target was a vampire.

First, she needed to be stunned. Darlayah mustered her strength, and almost growling, yelled forth, "**FUS RO DAH!**" The vampire flew back, collapsing at the base of the back stone wall, grin vanishing, sharp teeth flashing. As the woman tried to get up, Darlayah proceeded to jump onto her, dagger to her throat, a devilish look in her dull blue eyes. "Any last words?" she hissed, dagger just scraping the pale skin of the furious vampire. She remained silent. Darlayah grinned. "Very well. Another soul for Sithis..." She muttered. A quick twist in her wrist and the vampire's neck was leaking dark, red blood.

Yeah, she was loud on this contract, but Darlayah found it more fun to be more…violent. She found fun in killing, but would never commit such a crime unless the kill was needed, wanted, or dared. _An innocent never deserves to die, unless someone is willing to pay for it_, Darlayah always thought. Yes, it was cruel, but she never showed this cruelty to anyone other than her enemies. Otherwise she was quite timid and rather friendly, if a little short tempered.

She dragged the body to the coffin, heaving the heavy woman into the black box before her blood reached the floor. She wanted to hide her kill, but there was only one place to hide it. In the giant noticeable black coffin (which happened to be the only object in the room, except for some daggers). Not a very good hiding spot, but if a young person happened to find the hidden room, at least they wouldn't scream and faint because there was a bleeding woman lying on the floor.

Leaving the house, she quickly sheathed her daggers, realizing it was a bit odd running around with a bloody knife in your hands. She concealed them within her robes. The townsfolk were staring, and Darlayah realized it was time to leave. She didn't want the guards to find her kill. She ran towards her horse, untied him, and then mounted. They needed to head to Falkreath, which was on the opposite end of Skyrim. So first, she decided to head to Whiterun.

* * *

An hour passed, and soon the two were approaching Whiterun. A farm was nearing, the Lorieus Farm, to be exact. Darlayah had never met Lorieus before. Apparently, he was quite a

**"AHHHH, BOTHER AND BEFUDDLE!" **A loud shrill male voice startled Dagur, who reared, leaving his breton rider clinging on with fear.

"CALM DOWN!" she growled to her horse, who was searching around for the voice. Dagur then stared at something in the distance, on the road past the farm. "Oh, what is it now?" Darlayah mumbled, dismounting and leading her troubled horse to the object.

As they neared, she noticed a wagon, and a brown horse who was happily grazing on the grass nearby. One of the wheels had broken clean off, leaving whoever owned the wagon on the small road. Darlayah heard the voice again.

**"STUCK. STUUUUCK!" **he voice called, and as Darlayah got closer to the wagon, she noticed an odd man dancing around with his arms on his head, yelling curses and profanities. His feet moved so fast, Darlayah could swear she could feel a headache coming on.

She cautiously approached the furious man, and looked at his unusual attire. He was wearing a red jester's motley, with a matching black striped hat, which hid red-brown hair that touched his shoulders. His gloves and boots matched, being black with golden patterns. He looked like a fool.

A jester? In Skyrim? Darlayah had never seen such a person before in all her travels. She knew there were court wizards and other roles in a Jarl's palace, but she had never seen any entertainers. _Dragonsreach would be a lot more interesting if Balgruuf had a jester, _she thought.

She cleared her throat, a loud cough which caught the jesters attention. "Uh…do you..have a problem? Sir?" she asked, rather uncertainly. She kept a fair distance from the odd little man, unsure of what he would be like.

"Oooohh! Poor Cicero is stuck. Can't you see!" he answered in an exasperated tone. He was flailing his arms everywhere and dancing around on one foot. He truly was insane. Darlayah tried to interrupt, but the jester, who was apparently named Cicero, continued his rant in his terribly annoying shrill voice. "I was transporting my dear, sweet mother. Well, not her. Her corpse! She's quite dead." he said, all of a sudden a lot calmer.

Darlayah glanced at the broken wagon, and in the back was a huge wooden crate. Was there really a coffin inside? She looked back at Cicero, who had a hopeful look in his eyes. "Would you…uh…like any help?" she asked him, somewhat reluctantly. Even though the strange man was quite mad, she felt some pity for him and his...'mother'. The jester's eyes grew wide with happiness.

"Yeeesss! The kindly stranger can most CERTAINLY help!" he exclaimed, doing a little dance and clapping. "Go to the farm! The Lorieus Farm! Convince Lorieus to fix poor Cicero's wheel!" the man added, spinning around in a circle. Darlayah stared, raising an eyebrow. This guy was beginning to worry her.

"Uh…sure. I'll be back in a minute." she muttered, before sprinting up to the farm next to the road. The owner, Lorieus, was standing by the wall, watching as his wife tended the crops. He then glanced at the approaching breton, almost rolling his eyes.

As Darlayah went up to him, she pointed to the broken wagon. "The uh…little man needs your help. His wheel is broken and-" her speech was broken off by Lorieus, who wagged his finger in front of her.

"No, no and NO! That little mad-man has asked me seven times already! Seven!" he snapped, shaking his head. Darlayah sighed.

She took a step closer, just to prove she wasn't afraid of the old farmer. She looked directly at him. "That poor fellow is stuck. Just standing there. He asked you kindly for your help, several times, as you have said. And you had the heart to say no? What kind of Imperial refuses to help his own kinsman?" she said, persuasive tone smashing through Lorieus's defenses.

"Okay…maybe I wasn't being neighbourly. But imagine what he could have in that box! Weapons, skooma, stolen goods…" he stuttered. Darlayah stared coldly. "His dead mother." she stated bluntly. A sigh escaped her lips, as she looked over to the jester's wagon. "Just…help him. Okay? Please?" she added, in a more gentle tone. Lorieus sighed.

"Tell the jester I will be there in a second. But if it _is_ illegal - whatever he has in that crate - I_will _give your name to the guards, woman." he growled, eying Darlayah, who rolled her eyes. "You don't even _know _my name, Lorieus." she said, and turned on her heel, heading back to the jester.

As she approached the strange little man, he leapt right up to Darlayah, dancing around her in joy. The breton woman stood in confusion. She hadn't even told him what Lorieus had said, and the man was already being an idiot. "Listen, er…Cicero. Lorieus said he'd fix your wheel. But be careful - he's not exactly the kindest person around..." she told him, stepping back from the excited jester. Before she could head back to her stallion, Dagur, Cicero grabbed her hand, and put something in it. "Shiny, clinky coin! For your help, stranger!" Cicero smiled gratefully, as Darlayah turned, staring at the small coin purse he had given her. "Thank you, Cicero." she replied, somewhat confused.. As she turned back around, she couldn't help but notice Cicero glaring at her robes. Did he recognise them? Hopefully not…

As she neared Dagur, she heard the jester's voice again. "What is your name?" he called out, "If Cicero meets you again!" he added. Darlayah grinned. She turned around, walking backwards towards her patient horse. "Darlayah! Darlayah Dawn-bringer." she answered, as she bumped into Dagur, who was glaring at his rider. "Come on, Dagur. Time to go home." Darlayah whispered to her steed, who all of a sudden seemed excited to get away from the farm. Well, the jester's voice _was _ quite annoying. Many people would want to get away from him as fast as possible. Darlayah laughed as she mounted her stallion. "I was just being helpful!" she muttered to her horse.

* * *

Whiterun stables was fairly empty. The only life there was Darlayah, Dagur, and the stable's own horses. The coin sack which Cicero had given to the Darlayah was emptied and the contents were scattered on top of a crate, and were being counted. "Ninety-nine…one hundred! Wow, all I did was get Lorieus to fix the wheel…" the woman muttered, placing all one-hundred of the shiny gold coins back into the little purse.

"Thats a good purse of septims you have, Dee." a voice called from behind her. Darlayah turned, somewhat startled, and standing there eyeing the coin purse was Jervar, the son of the stable-master. He was the guy who would look after Dagur and feed him when Darlayah was out on her adventures. "Where'd you get that?" he asked, a curious look on his face. Darlayah bounced the pouch in her hand. "A stranger. I helped him get help. Nothing much, I guess he was just overly grateful." Images of the joyful jester's annoying little dances popped into her head. "You know what, I don't really need this. Here. Think of it as payment for looking after my stallion for the past week." Darlayah looked over to Dagur, and then back at Jervar, who was smiling with joy. "Oh, thanks Dee!" he said, as Darlayah handed him the gold. She patted him on the back, before she mounted Dagur again, this time, heading to Falkreath.

Darlayah would often do such kind things, even to complete strangers. She had a good amount of wealth already, mainly from raiding and exploring caves, but also from helping Jarls and other people. She would always accept the challenge of retrieving something from bandits, and wouldn't mind slaying a problematic dragon, or clearing out the occasional Forsworn hideout. It was just more fun for the breton assassin.

Of course, her new role in the assassin organization, the Dark Brotherhood, was also a huge contribution to her coin collection. Her helpfulness to strangers soon evolved into a willingness to kill if needed, and Astrid, leader of the Sanctuary in Falkreath, saw this as an opportunity to build up her gang of hired killers. The Dark Brotherhood had been slowly decreasing in power and numbers, and it became more and more difficult to keep the illusion that the assassins where all around, still powerful, and still fully operational. Skyrim only had two sanctuaries, one of which wasn't being used anymore. The Falkreath one was still operational, but the group soon demoted from a feared organization to a small gang of hired murderers, but plenty of money was still earned from this.

The Brotherhood's contracts were originally given to someone called the Listener, the only person who could hear the Night Mother's voice. To contact the dark group of murderers, one would pray to the Night Mother by performing the Black Sacrament, an ancient and taboo ritual which was heard by the Night Mother, who would extend the details to the Listener, who would in turn give the contract to the Speakers. But there hasn't been a Listener for a long while. The Brotherhood now had to find out about the prayers via rumours spread around Skyrim.

Darlayah had been told that the Keeper, the person who looked after the Night Mothers coffin, was coming to Skyrim from Cyrodiil. The Night Mother's crypt in Cyrodiil was destroyed by the Thalmor during the Great War, and so her corpse had to be moved. Maybe, in Skyrim, a new Listener would be chosen. Maybe.

_I wonder what the Lady's voice sounds like…,_Darlayah thought to herself, as she trotted down the stone road south. _Why isn't she speaking to anyone though? Is there no one worthy of being Listener? Can she even speak?_

She pushed the thought away as she brought back the image of her most recent contract. A vampire? She had never been told the target was a vampire. "I'm going to kill you when I get back, Nazir." Darlayah growled to herself. Nazir was a red guard who gave out most of the contracts, and normally he would have said if the target was a bloodthirsty monster or not. The breton could of contracted Vampirism herself, and a vampire wasn't something she'd want to be forever. Shaking her head, she focused back on the road.

* * *

Dagur halted. He knew they were where they wanted to be. Darlayah patted her stallions mane, before dismounting, and lowering her hood, shaking her head and allowing her long, dark hair to be released from behind her neck. She gave her horse a small treat, before heading to the black door that concealed the sanctuary. Dagur obediently stayed put.

The door spoke, a mysterious voice. "_What is the music of life?" _it asked, unwilling to open if the answer was wrong. Darlayah knew the correct response. "Silence, my brother." she replied, and the door spoke once more. "Welcome home."

She swung the odd door open, went inside, and then shut it behind her. A cold draft blew in through a hole in the roof near the door. Humming to herself, she walked down the small steps to the Sanctuary, and there stood Astrid, the leader of the Sanctuary. She had an exasperated look etched on her face. "You're here, finally. The Keeper has just arrived. He's not what we thought he'd be…" she told her, and Darlayah could hear what seemed to be laughter…incessant, vexing laughter…

"But the Night Mother is mother to all! It is her voice we follow! Her will! Would you dare risk disobedience? And surely…punishment?" Darlayah recognised the voice. It was quite familiar…

She leapt down the steps, pushing past Astrid, curious as to who this person was. She had an idea of who the voice belonged to, but she wasn't sure she wanted such a person in the Brotherhood sanctuary. As she reached the rest of the group, she realised her suspicions were true.

"AH! I KNOW YOU!" the jester jumped up and down, grabbing Darlayah's hands and spinning her around, much to her discomfort. "Oh, Cicero never forgets a face!" he suddenly let go, and Darlayah would of fallen face first onto the ground, if it weren't for Veezara, an argonian. He held onto her, stopping her fall. The world was spinning around in circles in her eyes. "Oh…uh…thanks Veezara." Darlayah managed to mumble, getting to her feet. She looked at Cicero, who was innocently standing there, hands behind his back, as if nothing had happened. "You were the man…with the wagon. Carrying his…mother." Darlayah said, keeping a fair distance from the mad man. He once again began to dance.

Now she understood. He was the Keeper, and his 'mother' was the Night Mother!

"I am! I am! But not just my mother. Our mother, hmm? The Night Mother! Oh yes!" Cicero exclaimed, clapping his gloved hands and hopping from foot to foot. "But wait - Cicero knows your name. Yes, yes. But what is it? Hmm…" he muttered, suddenly frozen, rubbing his chin as he thought hard. Each time Darlayah tried to remind him, he would leap around, telling her, "I can do it! I can do it! Be patient!".

Finally, after a few minutes, Cicero found an answer. "Dawn-Bringer! Well…Something Dawn-bringer. I forgot…" he said sheepishly, but Darlayah smiled. "Darlayah Dawn-Bringer." she corrected him. Cicero shrugged. "I think I was close enough. Can I call you Dawn-Bringer? Or Dawn?" he asked her, eyes pleading. "Uh…sure. If it's easier for you to -" she was cut off by the jester's crazy dance and exclamations, and she soon gave up even trying to communicate with him.

"Darlayah! I've been waiting for you." Nazir, the red guard, came up to the confused breton, and then remembered what she wanted to say to him. She scowled. "You never said my contract was a vampire." she growled, crossing her arms, trying to ignore the jester behind her. Nazir's brows furrowed. "I was never told she was a vampire, Dee." he replied, and Darlayah raised an eyebrow. Normally, she would be told if her contract was a werewolf or a vampire, or some creature. That way she could be prepared. "Well, didn't the contact tell you? He should have." she muttered angrily. "I could have been bitten."

Nazir shrugged. "Well, here's your payment anyway. I'll be sure to '_talk' _to our little liar later." Nazir said, before handing Darlayah a sack of coins. She weighed it in her hands., wondering how much was inside. Nazir took notice. "It's got four hundred septims in it." he said, grinning. Darlayah nodded gratefully, and left Nazir, past the irritating little jester (who was now arguing with Astrid) and headed up the stairs to her shared room. She had her own little end table, which she usually kept little tokens from her contracts. This time, she came back with nothing, but she didn't care. Four-hundred gold is four-hundred gold, and Darlayah never said no to the money.

When she went up, she saw Gabriella practising some spells. Darlayah had some knowledge of destruction spells, and also with restoration, but she was never fond of the other schools. "Hey, Dawn." the Dunmer said, smiling. Gabriella had been a good friend to Darlayah ever since she first joined the Brotherhood. She rarely ever called her Darlayah, almost always calling her by the name given to her by Meridia (the Daedric Prince of Life) - Dawn-bringer, or just Dawn. Gabriella never knew this, though, she just found the name easy to remember when they first met, but it then became a nickname for the breton.

"What do you think of the Keeper? I think he's a bit too…exuberant for my likings. But, we can't change him, can we?" Gabriella added, shrugging and smiling. Darlayah grinned. "He's most definitely a little bit…odd…but I guess we should give him a chance, right?" Darlayah replied, and they both laughed. Gabriella suddenly began to blush. "Well…he does have nice hair…I-I guess…" she stuttered, and there was an awkward silence. All of a sudden, they both erupted into fits of laughter, rolling on the floor clutching their stomachs.

This was the duo's usual antics, pretending to be serious assassins, but when no-ones around, they are both the very definition of trouble. Babette, the 300-year-old breton vampire (who had the body of a ten-year-old) , sometimes aided their tricks, but often kept out of their troublesome ways. Usually, the vampire would end up walking in on their hysterical fits of laughter, and just shake her head and walk straight out again. Which is exactly what just happened.

"You two are simply mad. Worse than that Keeper." Babette muttered, crossing her arms. This made the assassins on the floor laugh even louder. The vampire simply chuckled, and left, shaking her head in disbelief.

* * *

"Ho ho ho and hee hee hee! Break that lute across my knee-" the jester's disturbing song was cut off by a sharp rap on the table by Astrid, who was beginning to get annoyed. Cicero pouted, stuffing a spoonful of food into his mouth.

It was dinner in the sanctuary, and this time, Darlayah decided to stay and eat with her fellow assassins. On the menu: Apple and Cabbage stew. Nazir was the cook for the night, and everyone loved his cooking because of his experience with spices and herbs. He was a fan of the Gourmet's recipes too, so it was a real treat for Nazir to make the food.

"Astrid, give him a break. It must have been a tiring journey from Cyrodiil to here." Nazir said, waving his spoon at her, before eating the stew. Astrid rolled her eyes.

Wait. Cyrodiil? That was south of Skyrim. _Cicero was near Whiterun when I found him. Thats way north of here, _Darlayah thought. What had he been doing so far north? _Maybe he just got lost, _she concluded, stirring her stew with the wooden spoon in her hand. She looked up at Cicero, who was still pouting, and surprisingly silent, and Darlayah felt some pity for him, considering he had come a long way. She decided to talk to him. "So…Cicero…did Lorieus fix your wheel alright? No trouble?" she asked him, and he smiled happily. "Oh yes! My wagon was fixed in no time, and I made sure to pay Lorieus. Cicero wouldn't be here if it weren't for him…and you!" he said, a huge smile plastered on his face. Darlayah smiled back. He wasn't as bad as everyone was making him out to be. "How much did you pay him?" the breton asked him, and Cicero told her he had payed the same as what he had payed her. Darlayah nodded, before continuing to eat her stew. Cicero was a lot happier from then on. _He isn't that bad. _She thought, _Why does everyone hate him so much? _His shrill voice and irritating speech came into her mind. _Oh, right._

Soon, the Brotherhood finished their meal, cleaning up and chatting. Cicero had disappeared. _Probably off dancing somewhere. _Darlayah thought, grinning at the image it had given her. She decided she would stay the night in the Sanctuary. _Dagur will be fine, _she assured herself, hoping the palomino stallion would understand where his rider was.

She headed to the big shared room, where there were beds scattered around the room. Gabriella was lying on her bed, focusing her magic, and Festus Krex, the other wizard, was probably doing some alchemy. Veezara was sitting on his bed reading a book. Darlayah went to hers, opening her end table, and pulling out her journal. She would often write in this, just as a little thing that could hold her deepest, darkest thoughts - ones she hadn't the heart to tell to a living person. She pulled out an inkwell and a quill, and began to write.

_Fredas 17 Second Seed, 4E 201_

_The Keeper has arrived, and is not what we thought he would be. He is rather eccentric, and tends to sing the most unusual songs, usually about death. He dances constantly, and even his voice is rather annoying to hear._

_Anyway, my contract went well, an easy kill as usual, except the target was a vampire. I was never told that our kill was such a creature, so I wasn't the happiest person when I confronted Nazir about the issue. It turns out, the contact never told Nazir either. What were they trying to do? Kill us? Of course, a vampire is not too difficult for me, but a warning would have been nice._

Darlayah frowned. Cicero was singing again, and it was irritating. He wasn't bad, but it was the lyrics he sung that were annoyingly disturbing. He constantly sang about feeding cats' corpses to rats, and breaking birds' necks, even something about setting someone on fire. From down below, Arnbjorn, the werewolf husband of Astrid, could be heard yelling at the jester, and then silence. A small cheer could be heard from Veezara. Darlayah rolled her eyes, and continued to write.

* * *

_The town lay in ashes and ruins before her. The land was stained with blood, and the fresh air was distorted by the smoke still rising from the smouldering piles. The stench of decay lingered in the breeze as it blew past the rubble into the forest. _

_This used to be Helgen, a tiny town where Ulfric was meant to be beheaded. But he wasn't. The execution was interrupted. Ulfric Stormcloak was saved. But by who?_

_Alduin, first born of Akatosh, had ravaged the town with fire and claw, sending the townsfolk diving for cover as he sent flaming rock pounding the earth from the sky, burning each and ever living thing he saw...except for them._

_Darlayah, Ralof, Ulfric and a few others were the only survivors. They were the last people to see Helgens population alive. They were the last to see the walls standing tall. But the first to see Alduin's return._

_Now, the people of Helgen lay in horrid positions, burnt to a crisp or buried under the heavy stones that were once the protective walls that surrounded the city. The families huddled together in their last attempts to stay calm, their last attempts to be safe._

_Darlayah fell to her knees in front of what was the gate. It was now a pile of burnt splinters and broken rods, some parts still hot and covered in ash._

_This town used to be alive. This town used to be thriving. It used to be called 'home'._

_She still remembered the children who were watching the Imperial soldiers, who stared with wide eyes as each wagon pulled up to meet Helgen's walls. The children who had to be pushed inside their homes to avoid watching the fate of the Nord prisoners._

_But where were those children now?_

_Burnt? Torn apart? Orphaned? She never remembered seeing children running out of the town. She never met a child who said "I survived Helgen." _

_That was it. Tears began to fall down the breton's cheeks, and she buried her face in her hands, choking up the tears that had been the lump in her throat._

_Darlayah, feared assassin and deadly mage from High Rock, crying because of a burnt city. _

_The skies suddenly turned black. The grey clouds swirled in the dark sky, smothering the stars in thick, wispy smoke. Ashes began to rain, rocks fell to the ground next to her. Thundering roads echoed through the rubble, echoed in her head, a shadowed figure soaring across the sky, bright orange fire spitting out from it's mouth. Darlayah began to scream. She began to run, she tried to hide, but the dragon came ever closer, and yelled forth in his thundering voice-_

**"WAKE UP!"**

A shrill voice awoke the sleeping breton, and when her senses came to, she felt beads of sweat pouring down her face. The room seemed clammy all of a sudden. "Oh, thank goodness you're awake." another voice said, a lot more gently than the other. Gabriella and Cicero stood over Darlayah's bed, worried faces staring down at the woman. "You've had another nightmare. It's okay-"

Darlayah leapt from her bed, straight into Gabriella's arms, who desperately tried to comfort her.

It wasn't the first time she would have these nightmares. During her life, Darlayah had had some terrifying things happen to her, and they would appear in her dreams and turn them sour. Apparently, she would even scream if the nightmares were harsh enough.

The day she had been sent to be beheaded was one of her worst memories. She would never forget the feeling of fear, anger and sadness after the incident. Alduin, the legendary dragon who was meant to have been slain, had returned, shredding the town of Helgen to pieces with fire and claw. The bodies of the men, women and children lay burnt on the ground, their last moments of fear captured in horrid positions, forever left to rot in the rubble and debris.

"I-I-I can't do this anymore." Darlayah managed to mutter. She needed to get away from the memories. Gabriella released her, sitting the breton back onto the bed. Cicero watched anxiously. "Maybe you visit the temple in Riften. The priests of Mara will know what to do." Gabriella suggested, and Darlayah nodded, a lump forming in her throat. "Wh-what time is it…" she muttered, laying her head down on her pillow, covering her face with her hands. "The sun has only just risen." Gabriella replied, unsure of the_exact _time. "Come on. Let's get you some food, and I will come with you to Riften." she offered, and Darlayah smiled, moving her hands off of her red and tearful face. As Gabriella left, Cicero stared with anxious eyes at the woman laying in front of her. "Is…Dawn okay? Cicero gets nightmares too. That's why he doesn't sleep." he said, kneeling down to Darlayah's level. "Yeah…I'm fine. I wasn't…you know…yelling…or anything - right?" she muttered, hoping she hadn't made a sound. Cicero shook his head exaggeratedly. "Dawn was quite loud. Luckily I was awake and heard you, and quickly went to fetch the elf." he said proudly, holding his head high. Darlayah smiled sheepishly, sitting up and looking at the floor. "Thanks." was all she managed to say.

* * *

The ride to Riften was a long, slow journey. Darlayah insisted that she go alone, and Gabriella reluctantly obeyed. Instead of taking Dagur, she had hired a wagon, and the journey was painfully silent. The driver hadn't spoken, mainly because Darlayah never answered him when he tried to start a friendly conversation.

When they finally arrived, Darlayah tossed a small sack of septims to the driver(without checking the amount inside) and leapt off the wagon without even a 'thank-you'. Shaking his head, the driver turned his cart around and left.

"Riften. Nice to see you again." the breton muttered as she approached the enclosed city. Tall stone walls barricaded the whole town, and a guard stood at the entrance. He stepped forward. "Halt. You will need to pay a toll of say…fifty septims to pass through." All of a sudden, Darlayah ran forward, punched the 'guard' in the stomach, pulling off his helmet, and slapping him across the face before pushing him to the ground forcefully.

"W-well, you're a smart one, a-ain't ya?" the 'guard' muttered, clutching his stomach with one hand, and holding himself up with the other. He was no guard. He was Galdur, a member of the Thieves Guild, and wasn't very well aquatinted with Darlayah at all. In fact, they did enjoy giving each other bruises along their arms and face. "J-j-just go right in, Dee." the nord grinned, getting up and shaking his head, scanning around for the helmet. Darlayah obeyed, not even opening her mouth to speak.

Pushing the huge gates open, Riften was revealed, depressed looking people wandering around aimlessly, several homeless people sitting about…it wasn't the nicest city in Skyrim. Darlayah stepped forward, and went to shut the gates. As she scanned about more, she noticed the expressions on the people's faces.

Everyone looked either worried, deppressed or afraid. They didn't recognise Darlayah, did they? No, they couldn't. She didn't have her red war paint and her hood was off. There was no way the townsfolk could know who she was. But what was going on? Maybe it was just a bad day for the people, or something. Or maybe this was normal.

Riften was one of Darlayah's least favourite places to go, because of the trouble and mess in the city, the dark clouds that loom overhead, the irritatingly dull people…it was really quite boring. The only reason she would ever go there was to visit the Temple of Mara, which was the first place on her list of places to go when feeling down.

She wandered over to where the Temple was, kicking about a small stone that had broken from the city's ground. Instead of going out in her assassin's robes, she decided to change into something a bit more…acceptable. She was wearing a belted tunic with an old gold circlet, and an amulet of Mara hung around her neck. She needed to look as civilian as possible for a while, just while the rumours about Grelod's murder were disappearing.

Darlayah finally reached the temple, but something didn't seem quite right.

The huge torches outside the temple were dim, the fire dying, smoke wishing away from the embers. That was most unusual. The priests usually kept the flames going, no matter what. It was also very, very quiet. Not like the temple at all.

The breton took only a step towards the temple, when suddenly a guard appeared out of seemingly nowhere, and halted her immediately. He drew his sword, and Darlayah raised her arms in surrender. "Halt! Do not go any closer." he growled, and made sure Darlayah went no closer. She was extremely confused, and also very worried. What in the name of Sithis was going on?

She sighed, lowering her arms. "I'm not here to cause any harm. What happened?" she said, a blunt tone which made the guard sheathe his sword. He shook his head grimly, folding his arms and sighing.

"The priests of Mara have been murdered."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: ONLY GALDUR, DAGUR AND DARLAYAH BELONG TO ME. THE REST OF THE CHARACTERS ARE OWNED BY BETHESDA :3**

* * *

"M-murder?"

No. This can't be right. Maybe the nightmare hadn't finished? Maybe she hadn't woken up yet? Yes, that must be it. But the world seemed so real...

"Yes ma'am. They were butchered in their own beds last night. I'm here to make sure no one causes anymore harm." the guard's voice was grim, and he folded his arms. "Just turn around and leave. I don't think the temple are accepting visitors right now." his dry gallows humour was _not _helping Darlayah at all. "Listen, if you want to do something about this, you are welcome to. Just don't complain if you start screaming at the sight of blood." He raised his arms in surrender, and allowed Darlayah to enter the temple. She began to think.

There were no Brotherhood contracts for the priests, and the word 'butchered' didn't fit the assassins' style. So it was no assassination. Who would attack innocent people?

Once, in Windhelm, Darlayah solved the Butcher case, helping the guards find the killer. It was fairly easy, for the guards were allowing her to help, and the murderer was fairly sloppy in covering up his tracks. Maybe she could figure out this case all the same?

She sighed. What a day this was turning out to be. Nightmares, jesters, murders…not the best combination of unfortunate events. The priests of Mara were good friends of Darlayah, and she did enjoy sitting in the temple with them, catching up and doing jobs for their Lady. The guard wasn't very specific with _who _had been murdered, but Darlayah didn't care right now. She wanted to know who did it.

When she entered the temple, the guards almost attacked her. "The guy outide let me in! Ask him if you don't trust me." she said quickly, eying the guards with cold stare. They backed down, somewhat reluctantly, but backed down all the same.

The first thing she saw was blood spatters. They were irregular, some blotches were huge and round, others were simple dots on the wall. Darlayah narrowed her eyes. She could tell by the way the blotches were shaped that they were put there, either splattered by the murderer or accidentally put there by a victim. The latter seemed unlikely, as there were no bloody hand prints anywhere. If the victim was touching the walls, there would be prints, not spatters. So they must have been deliberately put there by whoever killed the priests. _It was probably meant to scare people away, _she thought.

The guards watched as the seemingly docile young woman got up close and personal to each of the blood patterns, analysing each and every one of them. "She may as well do our jobs." one of them joked, simply standing and watching the breton.

"You two have work to do. I suggest you get on with it." Darlayah growled, annoyed that the two guards could sit around and joke while a murder was being investigated. They obeyed, mumbling inaudible things that Darlayah didn't necessarily want to hear.

She came to the statue of Mara. It was perfectly fine, except for a tiny speck of blood at the base of it. But there was nothing else wrong. Everywhere else, the books and tables lay damaged on the floor, scattered around the temple. Whoever was trying to kill the priests obviously tried to make it difficult to find evidence.

One table seemed particularly broken, with all the legs either snapped off or on the opposite side of the room. It seemed…out of place. The breton went closer. It had a small symbol hastily engraved onto the top, a tiny thing the size of a thumbnail. But Darlayah could see it perfectly.

It was_ her_ symbol, a tiny 'DDB' engraved into the table. The killer knew Darlayah wouldn't hesitate to investigate this crime. She almost growled. Checking under the bit of damaged furniture, Darlayah noticed something stuck to the underside.

A bit of parchment.

She took it, concerned and afraid of what it would say, yet she still had the guts to open the folded paper. Inside, it read:

_And the bird's song is a crow call._

_A sharp rap on the door._

_The crow's call, is a bird's song._

_And the dagger ends it all._

She knew that verse. She knew it well. It was a verse from a song Darlayah's mother had taught her before she died, and she always kept it to herself. How somebody knew it, she did not know. She did not _want _to know.

"What have you found, breton?" a guard asked, suspicious at why she had spent so long at the table. The young woman hesitated.

"It's just a poem." she said dryly, as the realisation came to her. "Just a fucking poem." she hissed, and she got up, parchment in hand, and stormed out the door. Anger building, her Thu'um dangerously taking control.

There was only one other person who knew this poem. Only one who had caught her singing it. Only one with the nerve to remember it.

Galdur.

* * *

"What do you mean, '_murdered'?" _Nazir asked, arms folded and concerned expression plastered onto his face. "Actually, don't tell me." He stared at the woman in front of him, knowing he shouldn't push her for answers.

Darlayah was a mess. She was angry, upset, confused, worried…everything at once. She was practically at war with herself, and couldn't bring herself to a conclusion. One side of her wanted to relax, just calm down and be at ease, while the other wanted to kill. It wanted to injure. It wanted to cause _pain._

Galdur couldn't have murdered the priests. But he was the only one who knew the poem. _The only one_.

Clearly the anger and frustration was showing, because Nazir took a step back, all of a sudden looking rather cautious.

"Darlayah. I want to go and see your Greybeard friends. You need help." he stated in a serious tone. It was no use for Darlayah to contain her anger, especially when she was learning how to use the Voice. One false move, and she could easily Shout someone off a mountain.

"I don't need to see anyone, except that bastard Galdur!" she snapped, folding her arms, pacing around the sanctuary. "He couldn't of killed them. Yet he was the only one who knew it. The only one wh-"

"Knew what?" Nazir was getting suspicious.

"…this."

Darlayah reluctantly handed him the poem._He may as well know about it, _she told herself.

"This poem. He knows this poem? So what?" he said, confused. Darlayah was ready to explode. _So what?!_

"This poem was taught to me by my mother! Me and her were the only ones who knew it. She wrote the bloody thing herself!" she snapped, "Galdur once heard me…singing it…and he knew about it from then on. He's the only one who knows about it!" Nazirs confused expression pressed her on.

"I found this under a table with my initials engraved on it." she growled, and Nazir raised an eyebrow.

"You mean…they put this there…for you?" he asked, bewildered. It seemed highly unlikely.

"I'm the only one who understands what it means. Do you honestly think it's a coincidence it was under my initials?" she hissed, and Nazir shook his head grimly.

"Go and see the Greybeards. You. Need. To calm. Down." he stated, and Darlayah realised it was true. Anger could easily make her let go of her control of the Voice.

"Darlayah! I am coming with you this time." a female voice called from behind the breton. Turning around, Darlayah saw Gabriella. She was extremely concerned for her friend, and she wasn't about to let her go running around Skryim Shouting people to death. "I am not letting you go anywhere without me." her stubbornness impressed Darlayah.

"Fine. Just…make sure you leave me alone once we get to High Hrothgar. I need to be left in peace." she said, and Gabriella nodded.

"I will. Tell me when you want to leave, alright?" With that, she turned and left Darlayah and Nazir standing in the Sanctuary. The Redguard patted Darlayah's shoulder, before leaving her as well. The breton stood all by herself.

Well, until _he _came along.

"Where is Dawn going?" Cicero asked, merrily skipping over to the distressed woman. "Why does she look so sad..?" he mock pouted, which brought out a growl from the breton. The jester seemed quite upset all of a sudden, but it quickly passed, and he asked his question again. "Where are you going?" he asked, innocently staring at the breton standing awkwardly in front of him.

"High Hrothgar…Throat of the World…I need some alone time." she muttered, and Cicero shook his head.

"Poor Dawn is upset. Cicero knows how that feels…" he trailed off, looking as if he was lost in some memory. Tilting her head, Darlayah watched as he furrowed his brow.

"…Cicero?"

The jester was brought straight back to reality, looking around as though spiders were crawling on the ceiling. He then looked at Darlayah with a distant look in his eyes. "Cicero…you okay?" Darlayah asked again, this time shaking the jester's shoulder.

He broke away from her grip. "Cicero has somewhere to be." and with that, he disappeared.

Darlayah clicked her tongue in annoyance. "Well then."

* * *

"You know…that Keeper has been acting rather odd." Gabriella said, before mounting her black horse, Raider. Darlayah looked at her with an eyebrow raised, patting her stallion and leaping onto his back. "I mean, he _is _rather odd…pretty much all the time…but I mean _odder_." she added, but Darlayah remained silent.

She thought of the jester's 'normal' behavior. That man was always pretty much out of it. How could he be any more strange than what he was already?

"You see, he's been talking quite a bit. Not to himself, though. The things he says just don't seem like it. Me and Astrid think he's talking to someone else. Someone…not from the Brotherhood." the elf continued, and Darlayah stared with a confused look in her eyes. "Do you…do you think he's planning to betray us, Dee?" she added.

"You say, 'me and Astrid'. Are you sure it's not just Astrid being paranoid? She honestly despises that man." Darlayah muttered, urging her horse to go forward, after Raider and his rider. "I don't see why he would want to betray us. He's the Keeper, and by what I have seen, he seems pretty obsessed with his precious Night Mother. Maybe he's just talking to himself. He does that quite a lot." she added, and Gabriella nodded, thinking about it a little more.

Wait. Earlier that day, when the two decided to go to see the Greybeards, Cicero _had_been acting quite odd. Not just his usual odd, but…_odder_. He seemed to have remembered something, and then suddenly disappeared.

"Actually…I think I get what you mean, Gabriella. He had been a little weird earlier, when I was talking to him." Darlayah said, tilting her head as she wondered if Astrid's suspicions were true. "Seemed to want to get away from me pretty damn quick."

"Hmm. Maybe Astrid's right. When we get back, or, when _you _get back, we will see what's going on with that jester." the Dunmer replied. "Come on, we need to get you to the Greybeards."

"You make it sound like I'm ill or something." Darlayah whined, which made the elf laugh. "I'm being serious! It's not like todays been a particularly good day for me." Gabriella continued to laugh. Darlayah knew what she was trying to do.

It took all of Darlayah's strength and will to keep a serious expression, but it wasn't enough. Dagur startled when the breton burst into a fit of laughter, making Gabriella laugh even more.

"I KNEW I could do it!" she laughed, and Darlayah grinned, trying to contain herself.

"Stoooop, I'm trying to be _serious_!" Darlayah said in mock-exasperation. Gabriella could make her laugh no matter what. It was always fun when the elf was around.

* * *

"Ahh, Darlayah. It is good to see you again."

"Arngeir, I need to talk to you about something."

"And what might that be, hmm?"

Darlayah hesitated. Gabriella was still waiting behind her, and she didn't really want her to hear her troubles. Their few moments of laughter and happiness soon ran out on their small horse-back journey, and it had left the breton in a rather solemn mood. "Gabriella, I think I will be alright now. Head back to Falkreath, if you want. Leave Dagur there. I will ride back myself." she told her, and the Dunmer obeyed with a good-bye. Darlayah hated telling her to leave, but it had to be done. She needed to concentrate on keeping her Thu'um in control. What if she loses it, she just cannot control her anger, and she hurts her friend? It was a thought that pained her.

"Darlayah? Is everything okay?" the old Greybeard asked, concern written all over his face. Darlayah tried to open her mouth to speak, but quickly shut it, wondering how to put her troubles into words.

The led the young woman inside High Hrothgar, and shut the door behind her. "You seem troubled." The other Greybeards stopped their meditation, and came to see what was going on.

Darlayah bowed a little, addressing Arngeir formally, before telling him everything that had happened, including her concerns about Alduin, the murders, her Thu'um building up and even included a little about one of her occupations. But when she finished, Arngeir did not look bothered at all. His expression was cold, disapproving almost.

"Master? Have I said something wrong?" Darlayah asked, curiously yet cautiously.

"You say you worry about the World-Eater, and something about a wall. Alduins Wall, you say. What could you want with Alduins Wall?" Arngeir suspected something about Darlayahs mention of a job. She had many different roles and occupations, but one in particular was very unknown.

She was a Blade. The Blades were an organisation focused on defending the Dragonborn emperors of Skyrim. They were almost wiped out during the Great War, and now, only a few remained, and they were either in hiding or forgot their past. Darlayah had foolishly tried to escape her duty, but it caught up with her when Alduin returned. The other Blades had found out about some sort of wall, called Alduins Wall. It was said that the way Alduin had been defeated before was described on the wall, and so the Blades attempted to find it. They succeeded, but found the wall was a cryptic mess of unusual depictions and puzzling pictures. If they could unscramble the code an figure out how to defeat Alduin, maybe the world would be safe once more. Darlayah wanted Alduin dead more than anything, for she wished to be able to sleep without fear again. If Alduin was slain, then she would be free again

"I am a Blade, Master Arngeir. I guess there's no point in keeping it a secret anymore." Darlayah mumbled sheepishly, folding her arms and bracing for some sort of impact.

"I suspected as much. I cannot believe you have kept it from us this entire time. I cannot help you anymore, Darlayah. I am sorry."

Suddenly, a loud, booming voice echoed throughout the halls, and one of the Greybeards came forth, arms raised and face solemn.

"**Nii los tiid, Arngeir. Rek fen tinvaak Paarthurnax**!" Master Einarth roared, and Darlayah nearly fell to her knees from the power of his voice. Einarth then relaxed, and Arngeir sighed.

"Master Einarth, thank-you." Einarth bowed, before leaving the two without another word. "Darlayah, _I _may not be able to help you, but I believe our Master will."

* * *

"Yes, even Darlayah thinks so!" Gabriella said, crossing her arms.

"Well then, it's settled. When that woman get's back here, we _will _find out what that clown is up to." Astrid grinned, looking over to Cicero, who was dancing off to oil the Night Mother.

"You bet we will."

Gabriella left Astrid, who continued poring over old maps and documents, a little grin etched onto her face.

As she turned to leave the Sanctuary, Babette suddenly appeared in front of her, causing the elf to jump back in shock. "Babette…you gave me a heart attack…" she muttered. The vampire rolled her eyes.

"That's what I was aiming for." she stated bluntly, and Gabriella clicked her tongue. "Listen, I overheard you and Astrid talking about the jester, and I just wanted to say that he is _not _to be messed with."

"What do you mean?" Gabriella became suspicious. What harm could that jester do to assassins like them?

"I've seen him attacking the dummies when he isn't on duty. He's like a sabre cat. Doesn't know when to stop…" The tiny vampire led Gabriella to the training area, where the dummies were lined up. Next to one of them, Arnbjorn was scratching his head in confusion, looking at the shredded pile of what used to be one of the training dummies. "See." Babette muttered. Gabriella gulped. "He did that not too long ago. The madman didn't even care. He waltzed off, singing to himself or something. He is the strangest creature I have ever seen…" the 'child' said, and Gabriella shook her head in disbelief. If they were going to find out what Cicero was up to, they had to do it sneakily, or end up as a torn up dummy like the one in the training field.

* * *

"**Lok…vah koor!**"

Darlayah watched as the clouds above the High Hrothgar courtyard yielded to the power of Master Borri's Shout. They dispersed, leaving the yellow sun to shine down onto the court.

"This is the Clear Skies shout. It is the only way you will get to meet our Master." Arngeir pointed to a large arch, which had terribly strong mountain winds blowing past it, stopping anyone from hiking up to meet the Greybeard's mentor. "Now, try it with us."

Darlayah mustered up the raging Thu'um inside her, and bellowed it in the form of the three draconic words. It did almost nothing. The power could be seen, yet hardly any of the remaining clouds decided to move.

It had been almost three days, and she was only beginning to use the power in the three Words. The Greybeards occasionally aided her by giving her some of their knowledge, but they generally allowed her to grasp the shout herself. It was frustrating at times, but it often helped to calm her down, as she forgot her problems and focused on learning.

"Let us try one more time. Master Borri, I think you should give her something to work with." Arngeir told Borri, and immediately, he shouted at the ground in front of Darlayah.

**"Ven mul riik!"**

"Now, Darlayah, try again. Instead of letting go of your troubles, harness them. Use the power contained inside you, and focus it. Remember why you are learning this Shout."

_To destroy Alduin. To find the murderer._

"Lok…vah koor!" The Thu'um burst out, more powerful than before. Arngeir gestured for her to try again.

"Lok…van KOOR!" The breton shouted, and the purple mist began to disperse.

"LOK VAH KOOR!"

Finally, the mist disappeared. She had learnt the shout in only three days.

"Congratulations, apprentice. Now, you are ready to meet Paarthurnax." Arngeir bowed, as did the other Greybeards.

Darlayah nodded. "Yeah…uh…just wait…one…second…"

And with that she collapsed onto the floor and grinned madly. "I'm just gonna sleep here for a while."

* * *

**"LOK…VAH KOOR!"**

Her shout was becoming ever more powerful, as the dangerous winds hid from the rumbling Thu'um that belonged to Darlayah. Finally, she was going to meet the master of the Greybeards. Why was he so far up the mountain though?

Another shout tumbled from Darlayah's mouth, as she stumbled a bit from the new found force. She was beginning to feel a bit dizzy. As she took another step forward, she misinterpreted the steepness of the mountain, and ended up almost tripping forward onto her face.

She had finally reached the top of the Throat of the World. As she stumbled forward a bit more, she noticed the entire place was completely empty, except for a damaged Word Wall, which stood covered in snow and ice.

"Where's this Paarthurnax…"

Suddenly, the ground began to shake, as a rumbling roar reminiscent of a dragon tumbled from the mountain, as a great winged beast flew from behind her, circling the mountain below it. It's torn wings sent gusts of wind down onto the mountain, blowing snow and ice in circles. Darlayah began to panic. _I left my bloody weapons on Dagur! _She realised her daggers were still attached to her horse's saddle, and regret filled her system as the dull yellow beast came down from the sky, beating up dust and snow as it landed next to the Word Wall.

"Drem Yol Lok, joor. I am Paarthurnax." the dragon spoke, a deep rumbling voice that seemed friendly, yet somewhat intimidating. Darlayah stood still. Surely this wasn't the Master of the Greybeards…

"What brings you to my _strunmah_, my…mountain?" he continued, moving towards the confused breton. She reluctantly walked a little bit closer to the dragon.

"I was told y-you would help me…find the…uh…Dragonborn…" she said, stammering as the dragon came closer. He seemed to think for a moment.

"Dovahkiin. Ah, it has been too long since I have had the glory of speaking to one of my kin." he rumbled, looking to the sky. "Why do you need a Dragonborn?" Paarthurnax asked, looking back at the trembling woman in front of him. He knew the answer, but he just wanted to know if the breton knew herself.

"Uh…only the Dragonborn can truly slay a dragon…right?" Paarthurnax nodded subtly. "Alduin has returned, and it is the job of the Blades t-to um…find and defend the dragon born, and help him in his fate…" she mumbled, hoping the great dragon had heard her. She was beginning to trust the dragon a little more.

"I see." he said. "But tell me - how did you get to this mountain? You need to be able to use the _Thu'um_, the…Voice." he murmured, and Darlayah nodded.

"I can Shout." she said, feeling a little braver. Paarthurnax had a certain look in his great dark eyes.

"Shout for me. Let me test your Thu'um." he rumbled, as he suddenly breathed fire onto the word wall, a draconic word forming in flaming colours. "Go to this _rotmulaag, _the Word of Power. I shall gift you my knowledge of the word…_if _you can tell me what it is." His tone was challenging, and Darlayah always accepted a challenge. She approached the word, and saw the dragon script glow. _Good thing I learnt to read dragon…, _Darlayah thought to herself, and see scanned her memory to see what symbols meant what. Paarthurnax waited patiently.

"_Yol_! It says _yol!_" Darlayah announced proudly, as Paarthurnax raised his colossal head.

"Well done, mortal. You know our tongue, don't you? Well, I promised to gift you my_onikaan, _my…wisdom." he raised his head and wings, as he channeled his knowledge of the Word into Darlayah's mind, and soon, she had mastered the word as though she were Dragonborn. "Now, show me your Voice. Let me taste the Thu'um!" the dragon roared, and Darlayah didn't dare disobey. She gathered up her strength, and forcefully shouted, "YOL!", and spat forth flames like a dragon, almost falling back from the force. Paarthurnax bowed. "You have experience in learning the shouts. I can tell. Now, where were we?"

"I needed to find a Dragonborn." Darlayah said, now feeling suddenly brave and daring, unafraid of the beast before her.

"Ah, yes, the _Dovahkiin_. Soul of a _dovah,_body of a mortal. _Mul ahrk morokei_. I have sensed the killing of my _dov_, my kin. I know this was no ordinary slaying. The _Dovahkiin_ is here, and he is unaware of his _moro, _his glory." Paarthurnax said boldly. Although he looked uncomfortable talking about dragon slaying, he seemed fine about telling Darlayah about the Dragonborn.

Was this dragon to be trusted?

If this beast was telling the truth, there was a Dragonborn. No doubt his arrival was because of Alduin's return. But wait - Darlayah still had to find Galdur. Who was more important? Galdur, or the Dragonborn?

"Paarthurnax, where can I find the Dragonborn? Is he in Skyrim?" Darlayah asked. Galdur would be easy to find, no doubt.

The dragon shut his eyes, almost as though he was sensing something.

"He is in Skyrim, yes, but he travels. He does not stay in one place. But he moves _volaan, _quickly. Something is not right." The dragon replied, and Darlayah knew that Galdur would have to wait.

"Do you know where he could be, or where he might be headed?" the breton asked.

Paarthurnax stared into the distance. "No. But I trust you will find him. Go, find this Dragonborn, _bo volaan, joor. _Be swift."

And with those words in mind, Darlayah set off down the mountain to the Falkreath sanctuary.

* * *

"So, you need to find a…'Dragonborn'…but you also need to find Galdur?" Gabriella sighed. "You've got a lot going on right now. But I trust you're feeling better?" Darlayah nodded. "Thank goodness. Now, do you know where to find a 'Dragonborn'?" the Dunmer asked, and Darlayah shook her head. "Well, that makes things difficult. What about Galdur?"

"Oh, I definitely know where he is. Riften. Ratway. Thieves Guild." The breton replied, "I think I can find him by myself though." she added, and Gabriella looked down to the floor. "When I find out where the Dragonborn is, _then _you can come with me."

Gabriella nodded, before heading off, leaving Darlayah in the dining room. She sat down with a sigh, holding her head in her hands and muttering to herself. What if Galdur wasn't there? What if he knew she was looking for him? _What if it wasn't him?_

Oh, it's definitely him alright. Who else knew about that stupid little poem?

"Darlayah! There you are." Astrid walked into the room, grinning like she had a plan. Wait, she did have a plan…

"It's about the Keeper, isn't it?" Darlayah replied, looking up at her leader. "That I need to find out who he's talking to, blah blah blah…kill if necessary…" she listed bluntly. Astrid tilted her head.

"You seem unsure."

"Well, he _is _the Keeper. He's so obsessed with his 'precious Night Mother' that he couldn't possibly betray us. Remember, he still follows those Tenets!"

The Tenets were five rules which governed the Dark Brotherhood for a very, very long time. When Astrids little group formed in the Falkreath Sanctuary, they abandoned these Tenets. Cicero did not approve of this at all.

"But you said yourself, 'he wanted to get away from me pretty quick'. Gabriella told me." Astrid was right. That Keeper was suspicious, and suspicious meant _investigate._

"What do you want me to do, Astrid? Sneak into the coffin?" Her sarcastic tone annoyed Astrid a little. "Thats the only place I _could_hide! And imagine what would happen if he caught me…" Images of the training dummy came to mind. That dummy may as well be Darlayah.

"Well, don't get caught." Wait, what?

"You mean…I have to _sneak _into the Night Mother's coffin? That's disgusting. No way am I doing that." Darlayah snapped, and Astrid crossed her arms. "Oh, fine. But if I'm chopped into stew by the time it's over, my ghost _will _be coming back to get you." she muttered. Astrid smirked.

"Hmm hm hm! Dum dum dee deeeee…" Uh-oh.

"Quick, Dee, run up into his room, and hide in that coffin before he and his little friend get there…!" Astrid whispered, and Darlayah obediently obeyed.

She stealthily slid into his room before the jester had even reached the stairs, and she stared at the big, dark coffin in front of her. It was upright, so it should be easy enough. She opened the two doors, and inside was the corpse of the Night Mother. Darlayah whined. She had seen Draugr; fought against wizard's undead; watched as a dragon is resurrected, flesh sticking itself to the ancient bone…yet there was something about _this_body that terrified her.

She reluctantly shut the doors behind her, staring at the Night Mother's corpse, which stood wrapped up and cold in the huge metal coffin. Darlayah suddenly heard footsteps.

"Are we alone? Yes...yes...alone. Sweet solitude! No one will hear us, disturb us. Everything is going according to plan..."

* * *

While Darlayah had been learning her Shouts, Nazir had been taking care of…_business._ The contact who 'forgot' to tell him about the vampire turned out to be a little friend of Darlayah's.

The Redguard had travelled to Riften, trying to find the man. He was in the Ratway, and seemed rather terrified when Nazir approached him, dagger in hand. It turned out, that the man knew that Darlayah would receive the contract, and that he had hoped she'd be killed.

Nazir had also taken a trip to the Temple of Mara, and done his own investigations. Sure enough, Darlayah's symbol was there.

On his way back to the sanctuary, Nazir's mind was filled with questions. Why did the contact want the breton dead? What had she done? And why was Darlayah's symbol in the temple? So many questions…and none could be answered right now.

Wait. Darlayah said something about the poem she had found in the Temple's mess, about how only one other person knew about it. What was his name? Gerdur…Gauld…Galdur! That was it.

_Hang on a minute, _Nazir thought. _What was the contacts name again?_

* * *

_This is going nowhere..._

Darlayah had been listening intently to Cicero's conversation. So far, the other person had remained silent, and Cicero had been ranting on about random things. The breton had gotten used to being with the Night Mother's corpse, and had taken to shutting her eyes to listen harder.

"What about you? Have you...have you spoken to anyone? No...no, of course not. I do the talking, the stalking, the seeing and the saying!" the jester rambled, and Darlayah could tell he was getting mad. "And what do you do? Hmm? Nothing!" Whoever was with him was most likely not being the most helpful person.

"Not...not that I'm angry! No, never! Cicero understands. Heh. Cicero always understands! And obeys..." he continued.

She then zoned out for a while, and she could swear she heard a cold, dark voice inside her head. It must be nothing. She pushed the voice out of her head, and listened further to Cicero, picking out words and phrases and putting them together.

"You will talk when you're ready, won't you? Won't you..." Why was the other person so silent? What was going on here?

"…sweet Night Mother…" Wait. What?

_Night Mother? He was talking to the Night Mother? I spent ten minutes sitting next to a corpse for THIS? _

Then the voice returned.

_"Poor Cicero. Dear Cicero. Such a humble servant. But he will never hear my voice. For he is not the Listener." _Wait...was the voice what Darlayah thought it was?

Cicero continued. "Oh, but how can I defend you? How can I exert your will? If you will not speak? To anyone!" He began to raise his voice.

Once again, the mysterious voice spoke. "_Oh, but I will speak. I will speak to you. For you are the one."_ This can't be right. Was that voice…the Night Mother? Maybe the breton was hearing things...

_"Yes, you. You, who shares my iron tomb, who warms my ancient bones. I give you this task - journey to Volunruud. Speak with Amaund Motierre."_

"Poor Cicero has failed you. Poor Cicero is sorry, sweet mother. I tried, so very hard. But I just can't find the Listener." Cicero muttered from outside the coffin.

_"Tell Cicero the time has come. Tell him the words he has been waiting for, all these years: _

_'Darkness rises when silence dies." _The Night Mother said, and Darlayah was beginning to feel slightly afraid.

Suddenly, the coffin flew open, and Darlayah turned to see a red-faced jester who looked as though he was going to explode.

"What? What treachery! Defiler! Debaser an defiler! You have violated the sanctity of the Night Mother's coffin! Explain yourself!" he roared, an awful sound that echoed through Darlayah's head. She remained silent, trying to speak, before Cicero, without any warning, leapt at her, grabbing her shoulders and pinning her to the ground, his ebony dagger in his hand, waiting. "Speak worm!" he spat, and Darlayah could barely speak in her terror.

"Th-th-the Night M-Mother..." she muttered, unable to string words together. Cicero drew the dagger closer to her neck.

"I said SPEAK!"

"She spoke! She spoke...!" she cried, and Cicero furrowed his brows. "To...me..."

"She...spoke to you? More treachery! More trickery and deceit!" he growled, and he put the dagger up to Darlayah's neck. "You lie! The Night Mother speaks only to the Listener!" The poor breton was now terrified, struggling to release herself from Cicero's grip. "And there is...no...Lister!" he bellowed, and pressed his ebony dagger down, a single red bead of blood appearing on the end. Darlayah had to think fast.

"Darknessriseswhensilencedies!" she came out with, much too quickly for most people to understand. But Cicero seemed to grasp some of the words.

His grip loosened. "...what?"

"Darkness...rises...w-when silence...d-dies..." she muttered, shivering with fright. "She...said to tell you...th-those words..."

All of a sudden, the jester dropped the dagger, leaving it to roll off Darlayah onto the ground next to her face. She whimpered. Cicero's eyes widened.

"She...she said that? She said those words...to you? 'Darkness rises when silence dies'?" he muttered in disbelief. Darlayah nodded, closing her eyes as if bracing for some sort of impact. "But those are the words. The Binding Words. Written in the Keeping Tomes. The signal so I would know. Mother's only way of talking to sweet Cicero..." _Sweet? You were about to kill me!_

He suddenly got up, leaving Darlayah curled up on the floor in fear, and started dancing about like a lunatic. "Then...it is true! She is back! Our Lady is back! She has chosen a Listener! She has chosen you! Ha ha ha! All hail the Listener!" he exclaimed happily, spinning around the room as though he were a tornado. Darlayah slowly, and cautiously, tried to get up, only to find her being pulled off the ground by the jester, who started spinning her around with him.

"Get...off me!" she hissed, pushing him away. He still continued his dancing, laughing all the while. But something made him stop. He paused, quickly glancing towards the door.

"By Sithis, this ends now! Back away, fool! Whatever you've been planning is over!" Astrid yelled, and soon, Cicero was dancing again. Astrid ran over to Darlayah, who had a small cut on her neck from where the dagger had been. "Are you all right? I heard the commotion. Who was Cicero talking to? Where's the accomplice? Reveal yourself, traitor!"

Darlayah tried to get her breath back in order to speak, but Cicero stole her words.

"I spoke only to the Night Mother!" he said innocently. "I spoke to the Night Mother, but she didn't speak to me. Oh no. She spoke only to her!" he pointed at Darlayah, who was still quite scared. "To the Listener!" he spun around once more, and Astrid growled.

"What? The Listener? What are you going on about? What is this lunacy?" she snapped, approaching the jester with her daedric dagger in her hand, unafraid of the man.

"It's true, it's true! The Night Mother has spoken! The silence has been broken! The Listener has been broken!" Darlayah thought Cicero's voice was getting most irritating, and it was obvious Astrid had already discovered that. She looked like she was about to slit the jester's throat.

She managed to contain her anger, sheathing her dagger before heading towards Darlayah, who was as confused as ever. "When I heard Cicero screaming, I knew you'd been discovered. I feared the worst. Are you alright?" she asked, before she looked at the little bit of blood on the breton's neck. "He did this to you?" she cried, treating it as though Cicero had cut off Darlayah's arms.

"Astrid! Calm down, it's nothing. I'm fine. It just...happened so fast." Darlayah said quickly. _Why am I defending that stupid clown? _She thought to herself.

Astrid sighed. "Okay, let's all take a deep breath. Cicero said he spoke to the Night Mother, but she spoke to you? Please tell me this is some kind of a sick joke."

"I guess it's true. The Night Mother spoke, I heard her voice. She said I was 'the one'..." Darlayah replied, rubbing her neck. Astrid's expression changed to a perplexed one.

"So...Cicero wasn't talking to anyone else. Just...the Night Mother's body?" Darlayah nodded. "And the Night Mother, who, according to everything we know, will only speak to the person chosen as Listener...just spoke. Right now..." Astrid tilted her head in her confused state. "...to you?" Darlayah muttered a quick 'yes'.

"By Sithis. And...what did she say?" she didn't sound like she believed it all, but Astrid seemed willing to listen to what the 'Listener' had to say.

"She said that I must speak to someone...called Amaund Motierre, in Volunruud, I think." Darlayah replied, calming down.

"Amaund Motierre? I have no idea who that is. But Volunruud...that I have heard of. And I know where it is." her tone was suspicious, and Darlayah suspected that this contract wasn't going to be fulfilled.

"So...should I go? To Volunruud? I should speak to this man?"

"The Night Mother may have spoken to you, but I am still the leader of this Family." _I knew it. _"I will not have my authority so easily dismissed." Darlayah sighed. "I...I need time to think about all this. Go see Nazir - do some work for him. I'll find you when I'm ready to discuss the matter further." And with that, Astrid left. Cicero stopped his dancing, and went over to Darlayah, who seemed a little crestfallen.

"Don't worry Listener, Astrid will understand some day..." He said, patting the breton's back. She retaliated, slapping Cicero's hand. He whined, rubbing his hand and looking at Darlayah innocently. "What did poor Cicero do wrong?" he pouted, and Darlayah rolled her eyes.

"You almost killed me!" she hissed, and Cicero took a step back.

"I...I thought you were trying to fool me!" the jester whined. "Poor Cicero thought you were a pretender!" his voice showed traces of anger, but he seemed to keep it inside. Did it have anything to do with being 'Listener'?

"Cicero..did...did you want to be Listener?" Darlayah asked, in a much more gentle tone. The jester sighed.

"Oh...well...yes. I did. I did indeed. I tried to listen. Tried so hard. But the Night Mother never spoke to poor silence became almost...maddening." he muttered, staring at the stone floor. Darlayah felt pity for him.

_No...I don't. That fool tried to kill me! But...he was only doing his job in defending the Night Mother..._

"Oh, but that was then! This is now! You're the Listener, and the Night Mother chose you for a reason, I'm sure! Cicero will remain the happy Keeper..." Cicero wasn't happy. Darlayah could tell. He wanted to be Listener, there was some hope, and now, Darlayah was. _The poor thing must be devastated, _she thought, feeling guilty. _Don't feel guilty, you couldn't help it, could you? _

"_Dreh ni kos krent...naal krosis._" she muttered to the jester, who tilted his head in confusion. Darlayah would often say in the Dragon Language what she couldn't say normally. She knew many words, but would often stammer a little due to the fact she didn't usually speak the language. "_Morah...nau hin...heyv, Cicero._" Leaving the bewildered man behind, Darlayah went to go find Nazir.


	3. Chapter 3

******AN: ONLY THE CHARACTERS DAGUR, GALDUR AND DARLAYAH BELONG TO ME. THE REST ARE OWNED BY BETHESDA :3**

**Near the end of this chapter, there is a dapple grey mare and a poem. The horse is based on a real mare that belongs to my best friend, and the amazing ****poem was written by her, as well as some of the horse's description. So that part belongs to her c:**

* * *

"Nazir!" Darlayah called, searching for the redguard. "Nazir?"

"In the dining room, Dee." he answered, and Darlayah turned around to go and see him.

"I heard the commotion. What's this about you being the Listener?" Nazir asked when the breton appeared in the room.

"It's a long story, and not one I want to repeat. Astrid said to see if you had any work for me." Darlayah replied, folding her arms.

"You're lucky. I have one contract. A khajiit - Ma'randru-jo. He's a mage, and follows a caravan around." Nazir said.

A khajiit mage? Normally, a khajiit would harness their natural stealth and use it however they wish. But a mage - now that was something you don't hear about everyday.

"Alright. I'll be back soon." the breton said, dipping her head politely.

"Kill well, and often." Nazir replied.

Just as Darlayah turned to leave, the Redguard spoke again. "One more thing. Could you possibly take that Keeper with you? We would all appreciate it if he was gone for a few hours."

"No." Darlayah said bluntly.

"I'll pay you extra." Nazir replied, rubbing his thumb against his fingers. Darlayah sighed.

"Fine. But you better have that bonus for me when I get back." she muttered grumpily.

Nazir chuckled at his achievement. "All right, I will. Now go get that jester, and please, take as long as you need."

* * *

"Cicero and the Listener. On the hunt!" the jester sang, following his Listener, who was as silent as ever. Cicero ran towards her, poking her shoulder. Darlayah remained silent. "Oh, you prefer to listen, eh? Of course, of course! The Listener listens! A joke! A funny joke! I get it." The jester laughed at his own remark, and Darlayah sighed.

"Are you going to be this loud for the whole journey?" she asked, exasperated and annoyed.

"Does the Listener want Cicero to be quiet? I can be quiet."

"Well, be quiet then."

Cicero shut his mouth, and put his hands behind his back, walking next to Darlayah. Silently, and awkwardly.

_This is worse than him being noisy, _she thought to herself. "Look, you _can _speak, just...don't be...loud."

The jester laughed. "Can't make up her mind..." he chuckled, before being relatively quiet.

Darlayah sighed again. This man was simply mad. _Like I haven't noticed already..._

After about ten minutes of uncomfortable silence, Cicero finally spoke. "Remember when you found out you were Listener? You said something to Cicero. You said strange words." he said, tilting his head, and looking at Darlayah innocently.

"It was Dragon. I...tend to speak a little." she replied simply, shrugging.

"What did you say?" Cicero asked, now quiet curious.

"Nothing." the Listener replied, turning slightly red.

"Ah, Dawn is blushing! What did you say, hmm? Was it a secret? I won't tell anyone!"

"I'm sure you won't."

"Pleaaase tell me?"

Darlayah narrowed her eyes in annoyance, ignoring the jester and focusing on the road. Her hand strayed to her daedric dagger.

"I'll be quiet now." Cicero mumbled, looking at the ground sheepishly. He sighed, slowing down a little so he was behind the Listener.

"You better be." Darlayah muttered angrily.

* * *

Finally, Darlayah and Cicero found their target. The khajiit mage was talking to one of the traders, discussing regrets and coming to Skyrim.

"Is that the kitty you have to kill?" Cicero whispered, standing behind Darlayah.

"Yep." she replied, pulling her hood over her head.

Approaching the caravan, Darlayah stared at Ma'randru-jo, who had just sat down on a rug in the dirt. He glared suspiciously when he saw the red and black robed character.

Darlayah pulled out both her daggers. "I'm gonna beat you like a house-cat." she growled, and the khajiit mage hissed.

"What? You dare challenge Ma'randru-jo?" he stood up, ears pinned back and sharp teeth flashing. "You will suffer for your insolence!"

The fight was short. In fact, it was so short, it took a quick flick of the wrist and it was over. Darlayah watched as her victim sunk the the ground, blood gushing from his neck. The other khajiit traders stared with fear. "I suggest you continue what you're doing, and never speak a word about this to _anyone_." Darlayah hissed, showing the traders her bloody daggers. They nodded, some trembling, afraid of the consequences of telling the guards.

Cicero clapped, hopping about from one foot to the other. "Brilliant! Ah, Mother has chosen well!" he cheered, and Darlayah grinned, bowing.

"Why, thank you Keeper." she replied, in a mock-dignified tone. "We best leave before the kitties decide to rat us out." she whispered, and sheathed her daggers. Cicero followed her as she left the caravan, sticking his tongue out at the traders behind them.

* * *

"That was quick. Whatever happened to_taking your time_?" Nazir muttered, shaking his head at the sight of Cicero, who seemed a little hurt by his comment.

Darlayah narrowed her eyes. "He's one of us now, Nazir. You should probably show some respect." Cicero smiled gratefully.

On the way back from the contract, the Keeper proved to be less irritating than previously thought. The two assassins shared stories of their previous contracts, tales from their home-lands, and even cracked a joke or two.

"You weren't exactly the most eager person in the world when I asked you to take him with you." Nazir replied, and Darlayah shrugged. "Anyway, here's your payment." He handed the Listener a pouch containing four hundred coins. Darlayah hesitated. "_And _your bonus..." Nazir muttered, handing the breton an extra fourty septims. "Now go. I need to start making some supper."

* * *

The next morning, Darlayah had started to think about her little quests which needed to be completed as soon as possible - finding both the Dragonborn and Galdur. She had gone to Whiterun, to collect some supplies, but ended up doing absolutely nothing.

_The Dragonborn is going to be difficult to find_, she thought, so she put that task aside, _but Galdur is in Riften_. Darlayah knew _exactly_where the man was, and how to find him. But she had to postpone that quest as well.

"So, are we going to go find this 'friend' of yours?" Gabriella asked Darlayah, who was sitting facedown on her desk in Breezehome. She had left the Sanctuary for a day, only to find the Dunmer following her. She wanted to help her friend as much as possible.

Darlayah mumbled something inaudible, before lifting her head off the table. Gabriella tilted her head. "What?"

"I said maybe today. I'm feeling less violent this morning." the breton repeated, getting off the wooden chair and stomping up stairs to her room, where Lydia was waiting with her armour. Darlayah allowed a smile to surface, taking the armour and telling Lydia to leave while she put them on.

A minute later, the breton came out in her full Nightingale armour, with a beautiful black bow on her back, and a daedric dagger strapped to her thigh. Just in case.

She headed back downstairs, looking for her elf friend. Gabriella had been searching Darlayah's 'arrow chest' in the alchemy room for her elven arrows, which she knew were the Listener's favorite. She handed them to Darlayah, grabbing some potions and poisons from the alchemy lab as well, before they both headed out together.

* * *

Riften was on the eastern side of Skyrim, so the two had some way to go. They both took their horses, Dagur and Raider, heading to the dark, dull city as quick as an arrow.

They rode past mountains and forests, camps and caves, even a Dragon lair, where a huge blood dragon would take his live prey, before devouring them and leaving the corpses to rot. Darlayah wanted to slay the dragon (for she loved killing them), but Gabriella insisted that they continue on. The breton reluctantly obeyed.

After about two hours of riding, resting and talking, Gabriella and Darlayah reached Riften. The Listener's happy mood was immediately extinguished at the sight of the city. As usual, the dark clouds loomed overhead, glaring at the town, threatening to rain.

Darlayah muttered something, as she dismounted her stallion, heading to the gates. Gabriella followed.

They entered the city, and as usual, the dull people were wandering around aimlessly. But something was different. Some of the people seemed…scared. Afraid. Worried. Was it because of the temple incident?

"Come on Dawn, we have a rat to find." The dark elf said, and Darlayah nodded, following after her friend. "So, where can we find him again? Gabriella asked.

"The Ratway. He's in with the Thieves Guild, but then again, so am I." Darlayah replied.

The Thieves Guild were often hired to take care of any business that involved sneaking, stealing and being silent. They were pretty much the Dark Brotherhood, except they never killed anyone. Darlayah was a member, a new one, but she knew almost everyone.

"Come on, I'll show you the way." she said, walking in front of the elf and leading her to the area under Riften where the Ratway and some homes were. There were some stairs leading down to the small canal under the city, and Darlayah leapt down them like a bat, missing almost all the stairs as she landed onto the damp wooden planks. Gabriella walked down like a normal person. "You know, it would be good to try and look as civilian as possible instead of leaping about like a cat…" the elf muttered. "But then again, we are armoured to the teeth."

After some walking around, Darlayah found what they were looking for. "Our little friend is gonna be in there." She said, pointing to the iron gate that stood between them and the corridor into the Ratway. "Let's go." She opened the gate, heading down the dark, damp corridor. At the end of this passage, a wooden door stood, and Darlayah tried to open it. "It's locked…" she mumbled, as she pulled out some lock picks. "Nothing I can't handle though." she boasted, twisting the little picks inside the lock, and soon, it popped open, and the door became free. "Let's continue on, then."

The Ratway was dark and mysterious, with only a torch on the wall which made Darlayah's shadow clash with Gabriella's on the stone brick walls. There were several bear traps lying on the floor, and they hadn't been triggered. "He was waiting for us!" Darlayah hissed, grabbing a nearby stone and throwing it at one of the traps, triggering it with a sharp _clang_. "_Tol mal mey_…" Darlayah muttered, stepping over the remaining traps. Gabriella followed without saying a word. "Be careful, Gabriella. It seems as though our friend here has prepared for our arrival." she said, kicking a trap lying near a passageway.

If Galdur knew they were coming, would he still be there? Would he be hiding with the Guild, or would he have escaped?

They headed further into the passages, scanning every corner and searching every corner. No sign of Galdur. No sign of anything, actually. Except the traps.

Soon, they found the _Ragged Flagon_, a sort of bar for the Thieves Guild and the people in the Ratway. It was where Galdur would usually go, and it was Darlayah's first place on her mental list of places the man could hide. If he wasn't there, she had other places to check.

As she walked into the _Flagon_, she noticed that the place was nearly empty. Only Dirge, a tough-talking thug who stood by the bar, was there. He eyed the two women suspiciously. "What brings you 'ere?" he growled, glaring as the two walked up to where the bar was.

"None of your business." Darlayah snapped, pushing past Dirge, with Gabriella following. He scowled, folding his arms and leaning on the column next to him. "Wait. Actually, you can help us." Dirge ignored. Sighing, the breton pulled some coins from her small pouch, and rustled them around in her palm. The thug turned his head at the sound of metal clinking. "I'm listening." he said, turning to face the woman.

"Where's Galdur?" she stated, and Dirge raised an eyebrow.

"Galdur? He left a while ago. What do you want with 'im?" he questioned, and Darlayah shrugged.

"Nothing that concerns you. Do you know where he went?"

"No. But I do know he's not gonna be in Riften for a while." Dirge replied, eyeing the coins in the Listener's palm.

Darlayah sighed. Places in Riften were most of the places on her mental list. Now what was she going to do?

"That means he's travelling." Gabriella stood forward. "You're looking for another traveller, too, aren't you Dee?" she asked, and Darlayah nodded. "We can search for both at the same time."

Darlayah thought about it. "Now there's a good idea." The two women turned to leave, only to hear an exaggerated cough from Dirge. "Oh, right. Remember, we were never here." Darlayah tossed a few coins in the thug's direction. "I never saw a thing." he said, in a somewhat unconvincing tone.

* * *

"We have searched all of the Rift, and he's nowhere to be seen." Darlayah muttered angrily, chucking her dagger onto the ground, sitting down under a tall tree. Gabriella sighed.

"We still have to search the rest of Skyrim…" she said, kneeling in front of her friend. "We could always ask some of those Khajiit caravans to look out for him, you know…tell them what he looks like." she suggested, and Darlayah nodded.

"Seems like a good enough idea." she said, grabbing her dagger off of the grass, putting back on her hip next to her little leather pouch. "I guess we better get going, then. Maybe we could stop off at an inn or something. I feel like having a drink."

Gabriella agreed, getting up off the ground. She searched around for their steeds, who had gone gallivanting off into the forest in search of anything edible. It didn't take long for the elf to find the horses, for they hadn't gone far.

After checking the animal's tack, the two assassins mounted, and headed off to Whiterun.

"What are we going to do once we get there?" Gabriella asked after a few minutes of slow riding. Darlayah had to think before she could answer. What _were _they going to do?

"Head to the _Bannered Mare_. We will see if there's anything the barmaid could tell us." she finally replied, and her tiredness was shown in her voice. They had spent two whole days searching, and even though Darlayah was determined to find Galdur, Gabriella just wanted to head back to the sanctuary.

"So…Dawn…I was just wondering if…you'd be alright on your own…" the Dunmer finally mumbled, and Darlayah looked over to her friend. "Of course, I could still come with you. It's just…you seem to know what you're doing. I have not the slightest clue." Gabriella admitted.

"You can head back if you want. I don't min-" Something cut Darlayah off. She turned around, as though she was scanning the forests around them for something. The evening sun made the tree's shadows stretch across the ground, so it was rather difficult to see anything. Facing their path again, Darlayah shook her head. "As I was saying, I don't mind if you want to head home. I have a fair idea of where to go." Again, Darlayah swivelled around. This time, she halted her horse. "Gabriella, stop for a second." The elf obeyed. "Did you hear that?"

Faint shouts could be heard from further on into the dark forest, a sound that worried both the assassins and the horses. "What is that?" Gabriella asked, and she turned Raider around, curious to see who it was. "Should we have a look?"

Darlayah seemed reluctant to check it out, but ended up dismounting her horse, equipping her Nightingale bow in her hands. Just in case. "_I'll _have a look. Keep the horses here." she told her friend, and Gabriella huffed in disappointment.

Crouching low, the Listener crept forward, and eventually, she came to a small camp site. There were five men arguing, yelling profanities and insults at each other. Darlayah was about to intervene, but realised what they were. Bandits.

They continued arguing while the breton calculated how to kill each one before they spotted her. Bandits would often steal from passersby, so they would sometimes carry a fair amount of gold and other valuable things, things that Darlayah could use or sell.

She grabbed an arrow from her golden quiver, setting up her black bow for a kill. Pulling back her bowstring and aiming for a bandit's head, she drew a deep breath in. She needed to focus. _"Morah ahrk krii." _she muttered to herself, as she stared directly where her elven arrow was pointed. _"Nu, dir."_She released the arrow, watching as it flew into her target, blood spattering around his skull as she collapsed to the ground. The other bandits drew their swords, glaring at the forest in fear.

Darlayah quickly rolled behind a bush, a stealthy, silent movement that was almost unnoticeable in the shadows surrounding her.

"What just happened?"

"I don't know! He just fell!"

"There's an arrow in his skull! What do you _think _happened?"

"Watch the trees! Keep your eyes peeled!"

The breton hid behind this bush for a while, forgetting about her elf friend, who was still waiting with Dagur and Raider, until the bandits calmed down. Now that there was only four, she should be able to have some fun.

Suddenly rising from the bush, she quickly drew in another deep breath.

"**YOL!**" she roared, as flames spit from her mouth, instantly killing two of the bandits. Two more remained, watching in terror as the Nightingale stepped from her hiding spot, with a dagger in one hand, and her bow on her back. In her free hand, a ball of whirling flame grew, one of the breton's favourite spells. She focused the magic, before releasing it, a ball of flame spiralling in the direction of one of the bandits. He collapsed, his arm severely burnt from both the shout and the spell. A quick slit of the throat ended his life.

"How DARE YOU!" the last bandit bellowed, a huge steel war axe in his hands.

Darlayah snorted. "Come at me." she growled.

They both charged, and the bandit lifted his axe, and hurled it in Darlayah's direction. The breton only just dodged, throwing a ball of flame at the man's stomach. His armour kept most of the flames out, as he took another swing, slicing through the air like a furious sabre cat. When he accidentally spun round, Darlayah took her chance. She grabbed his neck, put her dagger to his throat and pressed it slightly. The bandit dropped his weapon, gripping the breton's hands, desperately trying to break free. He was making this difficult.

"_Dir volaan!" _Darlayah hissed, before swiping her sharp dagger across his neck, stopping his struggles once and for all. Blood spilt down his leathery armour, before Darlayah released him. "Now, I wonder. What has it got in it's pockets?" she grinned, searching the corpses that lay on the ground, retrieving her arrow and acquiring some gold and a few gems.

She placed her loot in her hip pouch, and put her bloody arrow back in it's quiver. "Gabriella! You there?" Darlayah called out. She heard a faint reply, but couldn't quite understand it. "I'm coming!" she yelled back, and sprinted back to where she left her companion.

"There you are! Oh, and you're covered in blood. I take it you killed, yes?" the elf asked, watching as her friend approached the horses, who glared at the red stains on her armour.

"I killed five bandits…but that's nothing." she boasted, and Gabriella laughed. "I found a few gems, and about thirty septims. Not too much, but it's something." Darlayah smiled proudly.

"Well, we have a job to do. Let's go!" Gabriella said, leaping onto her horse. "The sun's setting…we should probably get a move on." she added, and she was right. The yellow sun turned the sky orange as it began it's slow descent.

"Whiterun, here we come." Darlayah muttered, mounting Dagur. He whined nervously when he saw the blood, and the breton simply patted his mane. "It's just blood, boy." she whispered to her horse. She and Gabriella then set off, this time at a quicker pace.

* * *

It wasn't long before the adventurers found Lake Geir, a medium-sized lake near the town of Ivarstead. When the horses walked around the edges, they seemed to be quite nervous. The Lake was very near a bandit camp, and this camp was a lot bigger than the one Darlayah had found, for it was located in a stone tower instead of a bunch of tents.

The sun was nearly gone now, and most light had disappeared, leaving a blanket of shadow on the lands. This made riding dangerous, for wild animals tended to hunt in the late evenings, and these animals would hunt and devour any living thing that crossed their paths, including horses.

Dagur seemed quite uncomfortable, as the soft dirt beneath his hooves was rather mushy, and the heavy palomino sunk a little. He even halted a few times, but Darlayah insisted he move on.

Before long, a few patches of weeds popped up along the lake's edge, scattering over the dirt and sand. Darlayah took no notice of it.

"The sun is pretty much gone, Gabriella. We might want to pick up the pace a little." Darlayah said to her companion, who was thinking the same thing. They urged their steeds to go into a trot, then a canter, and the horses obeyed, somewhat reluctantly it seemed.

The speed was dangerous. Little did the companions know, some of the weeds covered little traps made especially for Khajiit carts. These traps were deep holes dug into the soft sand, and the weeds had been placed there, as well as the others, to hide the holes. The horses seemed to sense what was going on, and they tried to tell their riders by stopping and snorting, but they took no notice.

Suddenly, Dagur stopped abruptly, and a sickening crunch could be heard, as well as a squeal of pain, and Darlayah was sent flying off her horse, landing on the ground with a thud.

"DARLAYAH!" Gabriella shrieked, dismounting Raider and rushing to her friend's aid. "Are you alright?" she asked quickly, as Darlayah got up, rubbing her head.

"…what just happ-" The breton froze. "DAGUR!" she cried, standing up like nothing had happened, and sprinting over to her horse.

He lay with one hoof stuck into a hole, his nostrils flaring as he squealed, his entire body thrown to the ground from the fall. Darlayah shook her head in disbelief. "Th-th-this can't be…" she stammered, unable to move, staring at her injured horse as it tried to get up.

It took a lot of help from Darlayah and Gabriella, but soon the stallion was standing…somewhat. His front right leg was completely broken, the bones snapped and the muscles damaged. He then collapsed, sinking to the ground with a harsh grunt. "No…I-I…I don't believe it…" Darlayah mumbled, a single, clear tear running down her cheek as she removed her Nightingale hood and throwing it aside. "No…"

"Darlayah…there's nothing we can do. His leg is broken. I'm so sorry…" Gabriella murmured, placing a hand on her friend's shoulder. "If I could do something, I would-"

Darlayah ignored her friend, and frantically used a restoration spell on her horse, to no avail. More tears tumbled down her cheek. "Why isn't it working?" she wept, as her spells drained her energy.

"There's nothing you can do!" Gabriella exclaimed, shaking her Listener's shoulder. "Except…one thing…"

Darlayah knew what she meant. "I'm not killing him." she uttered, stroking her injured stallion. "I just won't." She knew she had to, though. Dagur seemed to understand. _Just do it, _his eyes seemed to say. Darlayah sighed, choking back more tears, and pulled out her dagger. It glistened threateningly.

This horse had served her well for over three years. Dagur had become one of Darlayah's greatest friends, and sure, she often got a few cruel remarks from guards or passersby when she talked to her horse, but she felt like he understood everything she had said.

Hesitating, she reached into her pouch, and pulled out a small poison bottle. Gabriella objected. "Use this instead…" she said, handing her friend a white bottle from her own small bag. It was a paralysis poison. "It will stop him moving, he won't feel any pain, and he will die quickly." she said, as she stepped back, giving Darlayah some room.

"Farewell, Dagur." She coated the dagger in the poison.

A final squeal came from the stallion, before he lay still forever.

* * *

Darlayah and Gabriella had spent the night in Whiterun. After Dagur had died, Darlayah had to sit behind Gabriella, much to Raider's discomfort. He was a strong horse, though, and kept a steady pace all the way to the Whiterun stables. The ride was awkwardly silent, with Darlayah sat depressed the whole time, and Gabriella feeling guilty for not being able to help her horse.

In the morning, Darlayah had got up, and without a word, left to go to the Bannered Mare, which was a tavern and an inn in one. She had a bit of ale and mead, but decided to stop. She had work to do.

"Any news, Hulda? Anything unusual happening recently?" she asked the inkeeper.

"Nothing much, actually." Hulda, shaking her head. Darlayah sighed.

"Alright, thanks." She turned to leave, her already dark mood lowering her spirits, but Hulda stopped her.

"Actually, there was one thing I heard from the guards. They say an adventurer has arrived, and claims to have some strange power." This caught the breton's attention. She swiftly spun around on her heel, and leaned in to listen, forgetting the sorrow for one second.

"Say again?" she muttered.

"This…traveller. He isn't here now, I think, but he'd gone to the Jarl to tell him about this 'new found power'. I think it's all madness." Hulda said, stuffing a cloth into a dirty tankard and swishing it around.

Darlayah's eyes widened. Could it be…the Dragonborn?

"Did this adventurer describe his 'power'?" All of a sudden, the breton was extremely interested.

"Well, I don't know much, but it was supposedly a rather ancient, deadly thing he could control. But I don't believe a word of it. And you shouldn't either, miss." the bartender replied, a stern look in her eyes. Darlayah thanked her, and then left to go tell Gabriella, who was waiting patiently in the Listener's home.

Her sorrow from the night before disappeared as she ran through the market square, sprinting down the path to Breezehome. She opened the door forcefully, much to Gabriella's surprise. "What happened? What did you find out?" she asked, as she got up from her seat and went over to her enlivened friend.

"The Dragonborn! He was here!" she said, spinning in a circle.

"Dawn…you okay?" the elf asked, before she shook her head. "How much ale have you had…?"

Darlayah opened her mouth to speak, but Gabriella interrupted. "Actually, don't tell me." They both laughed.

"Okay! So…the Dragonborn, did you find out where he is now? It is a 'he', right?"

"I didn't get any information on where he was going, but I did find out that he's an adventurer." Darlayah replied, "And that he's a guy." she added, smiling proudly.

So. There _is _a Dragonborn, and Paarthurnax wasn't lying. How were they going to find out where he went?

_The Jarl! He went to the Jarl…I think that's what Hulda said, _the breton thought. "We need to speak to the Jarl. He would know where the Dragonborn went. Come on!" she said, and Gabriella rolled her eyes, grinning at the breton standing in front of her. One minute she was depressed and down, the next minute she was as fit as a fiddle, leaping about happily like a grasshopper.

They both ran to Dragonsreach, the huge keep that housed the ruler of Whiterun hold - Jarl Balgruuf the Greater. The keep rose from the ground as the assassins approached, and guards stared suspiciously as they sprinted past. Luckily, Darlayah and her companion had the thought to change into civilian clothes when they woke up that morning, so they seemed more innocent than their other armour suggested.

Darlayah pushed open the entrance to the palace, allowing the guards outside to close it for her. Inside, the Jarl sat upon his throne, talking to his steward, Proventus Avenicci.

"Balgruuf!" Darlayah called as they approached the Jarl. Irileth, Balgruuf's dark elf housecarl, nearly went to attack them, but she quickly realised that Darlayah was the Thane, so she stood down and reluctantly allowed the two to pass. "Balgruuf, I heard that a traveller came here. Claimed he had some sort of…_power_. I need to know where he went." she stated, catching her breath. The Jarl seemed shocked.

"And how did you know about this?" he asked suspiciously. Irileth glared at the two women, ready to strike if necessary.

"The news is all around town. Everyone knows." Darlayah lied, "Just…answer my question, please. I need to know." she added, a pleading look in her blue eyes.

"I asked him to slay a dragon. Nothing more. A travelling dragon, if you must know. Now I have a city to keep, so I suggest you turn around and leave." he stated bluntly, gesturing with his hands for them to leave.

"Thank-you, and goodbye." Darlayah replied, somewhat sarcastically. Irileth narrowed her eyes, glaring at the women as they left Dragonsreach.

* * *

"You haven't got a horse, Darlayah. What are you going to do?" Gabriella asked, concerned about how they were going to catch up to the Dragonborn.

"Ugh, don't remind me." the Listener muttered, remembering her loyal stallion.

"I just checked the stables - they have no more horses for sale. If you so desperately want to meet this Dragonborn, why not wait for him to return?"

"What if that takes a long time? I can't be bothered waiting. Besides, I want to see him…'absorb' a dragon soul. Apparently thats how you tell if someone's got the dragon's blood." Darlayah said, sitting on the stairs in her home. "The fact he can shout is not enough. I can shout, but I'm not Dragonborn. I must witness his dragon slaying for myself."

"So…how are you going to get a horse? I know that Keeper has one…but good luck getting to Falkreath and back in time." Gabriella mumbled, shaking her head. "And the Jarl said the dragon was a travelling one, so finding it is going to be extremely difficult. Why don't you just _wait?_ It's not that hard. I wait for you all the time, and I still put up with it!" she jeered, and Darlayah looked up at the elf with a puzzled expression.

"What in the name of Sithis is wrong with _you?_" she questioned, stepping back from her 'friend'.

"You expect me to follow you around all day, and what do I get? Nothing!" Gabriella retaliated, raising her voice.

"It was your decision to come with me in the first place!" Darlayah snapped, making the dark elf silent. "You can go home if you want. I don't need you to follow me. That is your decision." she muttered, calming down slightly. "But if you do leave, at least see if I can get a horse. That's all I-"

Without a word, Gabriella stormed out of Breezehome, leaving the breton assassin on the stairs all alone. "-ask…" she sighed, standing up and heading upstairs. She wandered into her room, and noticed Lydia wasn't there. Shaking her head, she slumped into her bed, covering her face with her hands.

Everything was going wrong. _At least I know the Dragonborn actually exists though,_Darlayah assured herself, rolling onto her side. _I just need to find him._

* * *

A few hours later, Darlayah was on the plains outside of Whiterun, practising her shouts in the open space in front of her.

"YOL!" she bellowed, and a spout of fire tumbled across the ground, burning everything in it's path. Darlayah stumbled a bit, something she was trying to control. She couldn't trip when she was in battle. _Just…once…more!_

"YOL!" she shouted again, and this time, she only stepped back. No stumbling or tripping. She smiled a little, and decided she better head back home. Her stomach growled. It was nearly about five o'clock, and Darlayah was feeling quite peckish.

Just as she turned to head back, she felt an cold drop land on her arm. It was beginning to rain. "Damn…" she muttered, looking up at the sky. The misty grey clouds formed over head, and small raindrops landed on the grassy ground beneath her feet. A slight fog enveloped the horizon, a common sight.

Just as she drew in a deep breath for the Whirlwind sprint shout, she heard a sound. A peculiar sound, yet one that sounded familiar. _Wolves…_

Wolves howled and yapped in the distance, probably hunting something in the forests near Whiterun. But something wasn't right. There was another sound, one that mingled with the bloodthirsty howls of the wolves. It was a horse!

Luckily, Darlayah had brought her daedric daggers (just in case), and before long she was shouting her way to the scene with her whirlwind sprint shout. "_WULD!"_

The wolves were chasing their prey through the concealing mist, snarling and barking ferociously at the horse through the fog. _The poor creature must be terrified_…the Listener thought.

Realising she wanted to rescue the horse, Darlayah ran up to the wolves, and one by one she jumped at the beasts, attacking each one with a _stab _and a _slash_. The yelping sound was sickening to hear, but if there was a horse in this mist, she didn't want it to die._It's not gonna end up like Dagur. Thats a promise, _she told herself, stabbing and slashing at the attacking beasts.

The black furred mutts leapt up at Darlayah, realizing she would be an easier meal, but oh, how they were mistaken. Each one fell dead, dagger wounds dripping red blood like water from a broken bucket.

Just as she slaughtered the last mutt, through the mist the clatter of horse's hooves could be heard, and before long, she saw the creature leaping about, traumatised.

It was a beautiful dapple grey mare, with streaks of silver striped through her flowing mane and tail. It was fully tacked up, and it's coat was gleaming like the moons that hung over Skyrim. This horse must have lost it's rider recently.

She approached the mare, desperately trying the calm the magnificent horse, hiding her bloody daggers so she didn't scare the poor beast any further. As she came closer, she notices something strapped to the saddle._What is that..._

Upon seeing Darlayah, the mare snorted, backing up cautiously, ears pinned back and ready to bite if necessary. The breton reached inside her leather pouch. She found some coins, a gem, a healing potion, and a small red apple. An apple!

She took the apple, and held it out, looking away from the frightened mare.

The horse flicked her ears forward, staring at the apple in the woman's hand. It stepped forward cautiously, keeping an eye on the stranger holding the treat, before grabbing the apple in it's teeth, trotting away, taking a bite off the apple, and allowing the rest to drop to the ground. It rolled towards Darlayah, who was still looking away. She glared at the apple, and then switched her gaze to the horse. _She wants to see if she can trust me, _Darlayah thought, picking the apple up slowly, and holding it out once more. The mare stepped forward slowly again, doing exactly the same thing as before, dropping the apple and letting it roll towards the breton.

The last time it happened, the mare began to show trust, standing close to Darlayah, happily munching on the remains of the apple. "Aren't you a pretty girl?" Darlayah whispered, reaching forward to pat the mare.

She felt the horse's dark, silvery mane, and then stroked the animal's neck, feeling the soft, recently groomed coat. This horse had been owned fairly recently.

Her eyes jumped to the saddle, where she had noticed something strapped to it. As she got closer to the horse's side, she unstrapped it, and held it in her hands.

It was a journal, an old brown journal, and upon opening it and reading the contents, it had been written in fairly recently. In fact, one entry had been written that morning. It read:

_'Morndas 22, Second Seed 4E 201_

_I have finished packing for my journey. I am going to take this beautiful mare back to Hammerfell. I found out she was from that desert land, and the closest I can do to giving her back to her master is by letting her roam in a familiar land. _

_She is most beautiful, though. I even named her after her mist coloured coat. I find her a wonderful thing to write my songs and poems about. I have finished writing one poem, and I simply love it. i believe it is my best work so far._

_"With the grace of a dove, _

_She runs like the wind,_

_With the colour of the mist,_

_That lingers over the hills,_

_What beauty could exist_

_Upon such a cruel world,_

_That beauty is Misty..."_

_I haven't finished it yet, but I plan on completing it and attaching it to the mare's saddle, so that when her master finds her, they will know she was loved and cared for.'_

_I must write with haste now, for I hear strange noises. It sounds like wolves. I am to mount Misty soon, and head for Hammerfell immediately. May the Divines give me luck on my quest.'_

So, the horse was named Misty. _What an adorable name, _Darlayah thought, strapping the journal back onto the saddle. "Where's your rider, hey?" she asked the mare. "Oh. I forget horses can't talk." she mumbled sheepishly. She wondered about the horse's previous owner, but when she glared at the journal's back, she gasped. It had streaks of blood scraped across it. "You poor thing..." she mumbled to the horse, who was staring at the journal. She began to think of what to do with the horse. _Maybe I could just...look after her for a while..._

She pressed down on the saddle, wondering if the beautiful horse would allow herself to be ridden. "I'm just going to climb up…" Darlayah murmured calmly, slowly stepping into the stirrups. The horse remained still. "Just keep standing still…"

With a quick movement, Darlayah lunged onto the horse's saddle, grasping the reins and preparing herself for the horse's reaction. The mare simply held her head a little higher, but she remained in the same position. Darlayah smiled. "I should rename you. You must have survived a lot if you came from Hammerfell." she told the horse. "How about a dragon name? No? I think it would sound cool. Like,_ Briinah_, or _Vahdin_. Even _Britkey_. Except that doesn't sound as nice. How about _Sadon_? I need your input here..." Darayah's words became a mumble. She was embarrassed, realizing she was talking to a horse. The breton laughed. "I need to get a life."

The horse remained still, shaking her mane a little bit. "I will decide on whether I will rename you later. But don't worry - I will protect you." Darlayah said, patting the mare's neck.

Tapping the horse firmly with her heel, Darlayah urged the mare to move forward, and soon, they were cantering to Whiterun, to prepare for the journey ahead.

* * *

When she arrived at the stables, Darlayah checked the grey mare's saddle-bags. It was full of fresh supplies, a sleeping roll, a few septims, and a book. _Now this is what I'm talking about! _Darlayah thought to herself, smiling brightly.

The rain beat down a little harder than before, and the breton and the horse were soaking wet. "We should probably wait a little, to see if the rain dies down." Darlayah muttered to her mare.

The horse suddenly perked up, ears pricked forward. "What is it, girl?" Darlayah asked, following the mare's gaze, and to her surprise, Cicero was approaching. _What? Oh…Gabriella…_

Even though the elf was mad with Darlayah, she still had the heart to send the Keeper and his horse to her. Darlayah smiled at the thought of her friend doing this. _"Thank-you."_Darlayah whispered.

"Listener! The elf told me you needed help." Cicero jumped off his horse, and skipped towards Darlayah. "She said you needed a horse, so loyal Cicero came right away!" he said proudly, holding his head up high.

_I kinda have a horse already…_

"Well, I appreciate it Cicero, but I actually have one." Cicero frowned a little. "_But, _if you want…you can…come with me." Darlayah asked herself if this was the right choice. Cicero smiled from ear to ear. "I mean..if you want to. You don't have to!" she added quickly.

"Oh, yes! Cicero would love to join the Listener!" The jester began to dance around, and by looking at his horse, Darlayah could tell that even _he _was annoyed by the mad-man. "What are we doing? Where are we going? Does it involve sneaking and stabbing? Ooh! Please say yes!" he pleaded, and Darlayah rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long trip.

Of course, she still needed to find Galdur, and she knew Cicero would quite enjoy beating that rat until he spoke. Maybe he could help her track the man down. "Cicero…how good are you at tracking people? Or, dragons?" she asked Cicero, who stopped dancing to listen.

"Oh, are we stalking someone? Are we going to kill a dragon?! Cicero will help find either to the _best _of his ability!" he announced, bowing. "I do like stabbing and stalking…well, Cicero has to! He's in the Brotherhood! He he he…" Darlayah slapped her forehead. "Remember the last time you came with me?" she asked, and the jester nodded. "Well, the rules I made then apply now. Okay?"

"Yes, oh great and powerful Listener!" he replied, grinning madly.

"You know you don't need to address me as 'Listener' every time you speak..."

"Can I just say 'Dawn' then?" Cicero asked, and Darlayah nodded. "Well, we best be going! So, is it dragon or person we are stalking? Cicero can do both, if Listener commands..."

"First, we need to find a man. He's traveling around Skyrim. Now, I trust you can ride well..." Darlayah said, before looking at the dark clouds looming above. _This rain doesn't look like it's going to pass very quickly, _she thought to herself.

"Yes, Cicero can ride." the jester declared proudly, glancing at his horse, which was standing in the rain.

"Okay. I have supplies, I have a horse..." she ticked things off in a mental list. "I have a jester..." she muttered, watching as Cicero danced over to his dripping wet horse.

After a few minutes of sharing the supplies, the two mounted their horses, and began to ride. Their first stop: Windhelm.

"...Does Dawn want to tell me what she said in Dragon _now_? Is she ready to say? Poor Cicero wants to knowww..." the jester whined, and Darayah rolled her eyes.

_"Mara help me..." _she mumbled to herself, before urging her horse to go faster, leaving Cicero and his gelding a few meters behind.

"Heeyy! Dawn, that's unfair..." Cicero said, making his horse go faster, catching up to Darlayah, who was now beginning to laugh a little.

"Catch me if you _can_!" she teased, and her silvery mare began to canter.

_Maybe this trip won't be as bad as I thought it would, _the Listener thought to herself.

Oh, but she was wrong. _Very _wrong.

The worst had yet to come.


	4. Chapter 4

******AN: ONLY THE CHARACTERS SKALD, GALDUR, DARLAYAH AND BENEDICT BELONG TO ME. THE REST ARE OWNED BY BETHESDA (except for Misty and Kodai, they were created by friends :3)**

* * *

"-And he said to the man, "That's not a horker - that's my wife!" Cicero laughed at his own joke, before looking at his Listener, who was riding next to him. "He he he. Oh, I love that one." he laughed, looking rather proud of himself. Darlayah rolled her eyes, grinning.

"I can tell. You've told that stupid joke five times today." she remarked, shaking her head.

"It's not stupid!" Cicero whined, before the two broke into fits of laughter.

"Ha ha ha… come on, I think that's enough of that nonsense for today. We still have to find our destination." Darlayah finally said, scanning the snowy landscape around her.

Darlayah and Cicero had been riding for nearly three hours, riding from Whiterun to Windhelm. Darlayah found out which type of dragon the Dragonborn would be following from various rumours. They had to keep an eye out for a huge, golden dragon with fiery red wings.

"Ooh! Is that it?" the Jester pointed to a large city covered in snow, sitting on a huge river. "Did Cicero guess right?" he asked, staring at Darlayah hopefully.

"Yes, actually. That's it!" the Listener exclaimed. "Come on, I'll race you to the stables!"

Before Cicero could even open his mouth to speak, Darlayah and her silver mare were galloping off as fast as the horse could manage. "Listener!" the Keeper exclaimed, before his horse was heading towards them like a bolt of lightning.

In the three hours it took to find the city, Darlayah began to start to trust the jester. Her trust had always been quite difficult to gain, but there was something about Cicero's exuberant personality that made Darlayah feel that he wasn't as bad as everyone else had thought. Sure, the man was quite insane, but he was quite fun to be around.

Soon, Cicero had caught up with the Listener, who had dismounted her horse and was waiting in the stables.

"What took you so long?" she teased, as Cicero leapt off his steed, leading him towards the stables.

"You cheated." the Jester replied, pretending to look angry. Darlayah laughed.

"Whatever. Come on, we need to search this city."

"What are we searching for?" Cicero asked. Darlayah had forgotten to tell him.

"Oh, haven't I told you? Well, we're looking for a man. A thief, actually. We have to find him, and…well…bash him until he speaks. I'll let you do the bashing if you find him first." Cicero's eyes lit up, making Darlayah grin. "So, is that a deal?" The jester nodded, and soon, he was skipping off the to city, with Darlayah running after him.

* * *

"Dragons? What do you take me for?"

"I was just asking…"

"I am no fool. Dragons…what nonsense is this?"

Darlayah sighed. Windhelm obviously hadn't seen the dragons yet. Ulfric Stormcloak had been saved by one though. Surely he would have told his city about the return of Alduin…

"I am sorry for wasting your time." the breton snapped sarcastically, leaving the Nord guard to his 'duty'.

Cicero and Darlayah had just been around the city of Windhelm searching for anyone who had seen a gold dragon, or a strange man who looked afraid. There search failed miserably.

"Poor Cicero is hungry. Need a sweetroll…or a carrot…" Cicero mumbled, rubbing his stomach and pouting. Darlayah rolled her eyes.

"You have food in the saddlebags on your horse. You can go get it yourself." She said, folding her arms as she leaned on a building, sighing in exasperation. "There is no soul here that has even _heard _of the dragons. I feel like a fool right now." she muttered, and Cicero put his arms behind his back standing tall and proud.

"Listener is no fool. No, only humble Cicero is. The Fool of Hearts!" he said, lifting his chin up as if it were a royal title. "Maybe we should try elsewhere." he added, returning to his normal stature. Darlayah nodded.

"Let's try Dawnstar. There's bound to be someone in that town who's at least _heard _of the Dragon Crisis."

Cicero clapped his hands, before grabbing Darlayah's and dancing off to the entrance to the city. Darlayah was dragged along with a scowl on her face. "Let. Go." she growled, and Cicero ignored her, and started humming a merry song. "Let me go Keeper!" the breton snapped, and upon hearing his title, the jester obeyed, and acting as though nothing had ever happened, just like he usually did. He rarely apologized too.

"Wait. Dawnstar? We must go there?" Cicero said, his tone changing suddenly. Darlayah tilted her head slightly.

"Well, yeah. I figured we could go there-"

"What about Winterhold? Hmm? I hear there are dragons flying there by the dozen!" he interrupted, speaking rather quickly. This man was simply mad.

"Fine, fine. But we _will _go to Dawnstar sooner or later." Darlayah said, before mumbling something in the dragon tongue.

"Listener did it again! The Dragon speak!" Cicero exclaimed, flailing his arms around. "What does it _mean_? Poor Cicero must know! He must!"

"Why? It's not important! You don't need to know." Darlayah answered, pushing Cicero's shoulder. The jester pushed her back.

"Why noooot!" he whined, crossing his arms and pouting. "Ooh! Can you teach me some dragon words? Maybe give Cicero a dragon name? Pleeaaassee?" he pleaded, making a face like a begging puppy. Darlayah rolled her eyes.

"Hmm…maybe." The Listener scanned through her mental dictionary, finding the most cruel and offensive words she could find. "How about…Meyvolaar?" she said, and Cicero narrowed his eyes.

"What does that mean?"

"It's a lovely name. Trust me." Darlayah's tone was extremely unconvincing, and the jester knew better than to trust her.

"No. You are up to no good! I can tell, Listener!" Cicero grinned. "What did _that _mean?"

"I'll give you one word. '_Mey' _means 'fool'." she said, copying Cicero's grin. "I'm sure you don't mind that one, after all, you are the '_Fool of Hearts'_…" Darlayah mocked the jester's speech, which made him break into laughter.

They soon approached the large, wooden gates, and they both pushed them open, and walked out onto the huge stone bridge connecting Windhelm to the rest of Skyrim.

"Why do you speak Dragon?" Cicero asked, after about thirty seconds of silence. They reached the stables, and their horses perked up at the sight of their riders. "Where did you learn?"

"…I…uh…I actually don't remember. I think it was the Greybeards who taught me, but I don't know…" Darlayah replied, somewhat confused. Where _did _she learn her second language? And more importantly, _why_? "I don't know why I learnt it, though. I guess it's handy if I want to offend someone without them knowing." She shrugged.

"Ah, so where you making fun of poor Cicero?" the Keeper asked, looking somewhat offended.

"Oh…uh, no, not really…" the breton replied quickly, "It's mainly just banter. Don't worry - I would never…uh, make fun of you." she added, and Cicero smiled.

"Okay!" he said happily, grabbing his horse's reins and throwing himself onto the saddle. Darlayah carefully lifted herself up.

"So, where are we headed? Winterhold, wasn't it? Okay. Let's go." the Listener said, and they began the short journey to the snowy city of Winterhold.

* * *

A few hours passed, and the two adventurers had searched all of Winterhold, and only a few people had seen a dragon recently. The only lead they had on anything was a report of a strange man who was very keen in hiding as much as possible. Darlayah instantly suspected the identity of the man just from his description. Galdur.

Their next move was to search the Pale, which was the hold belonging to Dawnstar's jarl, but Cicero insisted they search only the hold, and not the town for some reason. Darlayah couldn't be bothered questioning him. They were so close to finding Galdur. So close yet so far!

"LISTENER! LOOK!" Cicero suddenly pointed towards the sky, and flying above them was a huge, majestic dragon with glistening, gold scales and furious red wings.

"Cicero! You genius! That's the dragon! Quick - follow him!" The two urged their horses to gallop after the beast, and even though the creature was horrifyingly huge, the steeds were confident to keep up.

They had found the dragon, finally! But the Dragonborn - was he following?

"It's getting away…!" Cicero exclaimed, and Darlayah knew there was no point chasing a flying dragon. How in the name of Sithis was the Dragonborn keeping up? "Listener…it's gone."

"It's alright. Where was it headed?" Darlayah asked the Keeper, who was thinking intensely.

"Hmm…Solitude, I think." he replied, shrugging.

"Solitude." Darlayah repeated. "Change of plan - forget Galdur, we are finding this dragon first."

* * *

"Alright Gabriella, enough of this. Tell me what is wrong. We're a family here, we should be able to trust each other." Astrid's motherly tone rung alarm bells in Gabriella's head. Why did she want to know so badly?

"Astrid, I simply got into a fight. Nothing more." the elf said coldly, and Astrid raised an eyebrow.

"Who with?"

"…the Listener."

"Don't call her that! At least not _yet_. We still don't know if that breton is lying or telling the truth about the whole 'Listener' business. Understood?" Gabriella nodded. "Good. Now, what happened? Tell me everything."

Gabriella had started regretting leaving her friend with the jester, and soon enough she had wished to see Darlayah as soon as possible.

She told Astrid about how Darlayah would go off doing who-knows-what, leaving her all alone to wait for her friend to come back. She then brought in the dragonborn, Dagur and Galdur, and Astrid's eyes grew wide with curiosity.

"How…interesting. That girl needs to know that _she_ is not the leader of this Sanctuary, and that she has no right giving you orders like that. You ought to set her straight." Astrid said finally, and Gabriella narrowed her red eyes.

"They weren't exactly…orders. And what do you mean by, 'set her straight'?" Gabriella looked Astrid in the eye. "If you're suggesting…violence…then _I _suggest you turn around and leave." Her tone was aggressive, but Astrid remained unthreatened.

"I am the leader of this Sanctuary, Gabriella. My word is law. We can't have some imposter running around claiming to be the very Listener of the Night Mother. Do you understand?" Gabriella nodded. She knew _exactly _what Astrid was thinking. _She thinks Darlayah's going to steal her duty as Leader._ She thought.

_How far would Astrid go to defend her title?_

* * *

"Did you SEE that? Cicero has never seen a dragon before! Ooh, how exciting!" Cicero kept talking, all of a sudden feeling energized and psyched up after seeing the dragon fly past.

The two had set up camp, as it was getting dark and the horses were rather tired. The night sky grew darker, and the stars grew brighter, as wispy aurora danced in front of them. Two bright moons glared down at the two assassins, shining through the thin clouds that stretched across the sky. It was a truly beautiful sight.

"Cicero, go to sleep." Darlayah said, as she lay down inside her makeshift tent that she had made from the things inside Misty's saddlebags. "It's getting a lot darker, and we have a full day of riding and searching tomorrow." Even though she trusted him somewhat, Darlayah didn't feel comfortable knowing Cicero would be awake while she slept.

She curled up inside her sleep roll, shivering slightly as the cold Skyrim breeze brushed past the skin poking out from the roll, goosebumps appearing all over her. It took a lot of willpower and strength, but Darlayah finally went to sleep.

Images and visions filled her head. Strange, dark images. The night sky swirled about above her as the aurora turned from cerulean blue and green to dark red, dripping from the black canvas sky like blood dripping from a knife. Thunderous, dark clouds appeared with a _crack_, and suddenly, the beautiful forest surroundings turned from trees to snow, and Darlayah found herself on top of a mountain. Paarthurnax was flying above, roaring and growling, circling his mountain proudly, but the pride soon became tyrannical, as though he was summoning followers to aid him. His golden frame soon became a black and grey monster, with spikes protruding from his back and skull. His eyes turned a fiery red, wisps coming from his sockets like bloody smoke, and he turned around in the sky, before heading straight towards Darlayah. His thundering, booming voice echoed as he drew closer, great scaly wings beating the air as he came closer and closer, until finally-

"LISTENER?"

Cicero's voice once again saved her from her nightmares. This time, though, she wasn't in a nice, warm bed, she was out in the middle of Skyrim inside a tent made from old fabrics and furs. "…C-Cicero?" Darlayah's voice immediately sounded ten years younger, as her blue eyes expanded in shock. She placed a hand on her forehead, collapsing backwards onto the sleep roll. "Sorry...I guess I just had another...bad dream..." she stammered, and gestured for her to sit by the campfire he had made when they set up camp.

"Is Listener all right? This is the second time Dawn has had very bad dreams." Darlayah followed Cicero, and she suddenly began to shiver, but whether it was from the cold or from fear, she did not know.

Why did she fear the very thing that had saved her own life? What was it about Helgen that made her shiver in terror just thinking about it?

The breton expelled the thoughts, as Cicero went and grabbed a huge, hollow log from underneath a tree, and pulled it to the camp for them to sit on. Darlayah managed a small smile, as Cicero then brought his own sleeping furs and wrapped them around her. Sitting on the log, Darlayah closed her eyes, trying to keep her tears from spilling.

"Did…did you sleep?" she asked Cicero, trying to distract herself from her dark thoughts. The keeper shook his head.

"Cicero doesn't sleep much." he replied, somewhat sheepishly. Darlayah shook her head, looking at the jester with a concerned expression.

"You need to sleep, Cicero! It's not good to be awake all the time."

"The Listener isn't the only one who has nightmares." Cicero replied gravely, and Darlayah looked down at the ground.

"You…you have them too?"

"…yes. Poor Cicero always has dreadful dreams and nasty nightmares." Cicero's voice became shrill yet quiet, and the Listener patted his back.

"I have some books in Misty's saddlebags. Perhaps you'd like to read a little? You know…have some good images in your head before you sleep?" Darlayah offered, and the Keeper nodded. "I'll be back in a minute." She put the furs Cicero had lent her on the log, and went to her mare, who was now awake due to the talking.

Darlayah stepped towards her sleepy horse, and reached inside the packs on her side, feeling around for her previous owner's books. She found three: _Kolb and the Dragon,_ _The Yellow Book of Riddles, _and _There Be Dragons. _Taking the books in her hands, Darlayah petted Misty quickly, before heading back to Cicero, who was humming quietly.

"I have these three books, if you want to read one." Darlayah gave the books to Cicero who immediately opened up the Riddle book.

"Ooh! Cicero likes this book. I KNOW! I will tell you a riddle, you have to guess. Yes? Okay. A man says: 'If you lie to me I will slay you with my sword. If you tell me the truth, I will slay you with a spell.' What must you say to stay alive?" Cicero's eyes lit up as he hid the book behind his back, watching as the Listener thought hard about the riddle. She took it apart in her head, going through the words.

"Ah! That was an easy one. You say: 'You will slay me with your sword.' That way, you are telling the truth, but _lying _at the _same time!" _Darlayah looked particularly proud of herself, and Cicero grinned. She never actually guessed the answer, she had read the book before.

"Correct! The Listener is very smart." Darlayah blushed at the compliment.

"What about another one? This time, Cicero will make it up." He put the books on the ground next to him.

"Quick like a fox,

yet scared like a deer.

Stubborn like an ox,

but shadowed in fear.

What am I?"

Darlayah was impressed. "Did you make that up just then?" Cicero ignored her question.

"Guess! Guess!" he said, clapping his hands in anticipation.

The Listener thought and thought. Just like with the last riddle, she pulled apart the structure and thought of everything that matched the description. _How can you be stubborn and afraid at the same time? _she thought, and clearly her impatience to find the answer had shown on her face.

"Dawn can't guess! Is it too difficult?" Darlayah nodded, brows furrowed in frustration. "Well, you can't have the answer unless you guess it. Your turn! Tell Cicero a riddle!" The jester got up from the log and sat in front of Darlayah, as if she were a teacher and he was the student. The breton cleared her throat.

"Little Nancy Etticoat,

In a white petticoat,

and a red nose.

The longer she stands,

the shorter she grows."

Cicero thought for a minute. His facial expression changed suddenly from eager to solemn, staring at the ground as he thought about the riddle. He then quickly sat up, clapping his hands like an excited child.

"I have it! The answer! A candle! The longer a candle burns, the shorter it gets! Oh, you will need to try harder to make Cicero befuddled and confused! Go on, try again! Choose a difficult one." Cicero exclaimed, and Darlayah thought of one. It was an old favorite of hers.

"All right, here's a little one: Three Nord women are dreaming. They all have the same dream, in a way. They all dream about something related to falling. The first Nord dreams the dream, and wakes up terrified. The second Nord has the dream, and wakes up in shock. The third Nord has the same dream, yet she wakes up smiling and happy. What was different about her dream?" she said. She had made it up when she was younger, but nobody ever guessed it right. Maybe Cicero would be the first?

"Hmm…so they all dreamed about falling?" Cicero asked. He was really thinking hard this time. "Well. This is quite difficult." he admitted, and Darlayah grinned.

"How about, if you tell me the answer to your riddle, I'll tell you the answer to mine."

"Ah! The Listener is sneaky! Give Cicero a difficult riddle so you can get the answer to his. Clever Listener! Mother chose well…" Darlayah laughed, glancing over to the horizon.

The sun was already rising.

"Crap! Cicero, look! The sun's rising already. We better get going." Cicero put on a look of disappointment as he grabbed his things and went to his horse to pack them. Darlayah pulled apart her little tent, throwing the sticks used to prop it up back into the woods. She rolled up the furs and fabrics, before stomping out the fire, which was dying already.

"Listener! You're so slow!" Cicero exclaimed, and the breton looked over to him. He was already packed and mounted, ready to leave. "Cicero stole your books, by the way." He added proudly, patting the saddlebags. Darlayah rolled her eyes, and went to her mare and began putting her things away.

"Let's go find that dragon!" she told her companion, as she mounted her horse and began to ride west, to Solitude.

* * *

"Ho ho ho and hee hee hee! Break that lute across my knee! And if the bard should choose to fight, why, when I'll set his clothes alight! Ha! Ha ha ha…" Cicero was dancing around Solitude following his Listener, who was asking guards and passersby for any information they could use.

There were a few sightings of a golden dragon, but nothing about Galdur or the Dragonborn. Most people said the dragon was heading west, but strangely turned around, and headed south.

"Hmph. Solitude." Cicero had finished his singing and dancing and was now simply following Darlayah around in silence. "Lonely Cicero could tell you a thing or two about _solitude._" The Listener sighed, ignoring the jester.

"We may need to head to Rorikstead. By the Gods, this is almost impossible. Following a flying dragon is a fool's goal." she muttered, shaking her head.

Cicero suddenly leapt up, waving his hand in the air. Darlayah crossed her arms. "Yes, Keeper?" she said bluntly. The jester put his arm back down.

"We could trap the dragon! Lure him in with a tasty treat, and then KILL HIM!" he jumped about as though it were a genius plan.

"Cicero, how are we going to lure a dragon? And besides, we aren't following it to kill it, we just need to find the Dragonborn. No killing." Cicero sighed at the last statement. "We don't need to kill everything we see!" Darlayah laughed, but Cicero pouted.

"We're assassins! We need to kill!"

"I know, I know…but we only kill people. We just need to find the Dragonborn, take him to the Blades and be done with it."

Of course, they could wait for the Dragonborn to come to Solitude. But how long would that take? Would he have already heard the dragon was heading south? It was a bit of a gamble.

"Let's just go to Rorikstead, and we will stay there for the night. Instead of following the dragon, we should try following the dragonborn. Dragons are too fast to follow, even on horseback."

And with that, they left the huge city, heading to Katla's Farm, where they had left their horses.

* * *

"Sorry for wasting your time."

"Don't worry 'bout it. I'll keep an eye out for him."

Darlayah and Cicero had just arrived at Rorikstead, and luckily, the townsfolk were a lot kinder than the city people. The Listener had asked three people so far, all of which hadn't seen either the dragon, or the two men Darlayah was looking for, but they all volunteered to watch for them.

If the dragon hadn't been spotted here, then where was it? Had it changed course, or stopped somewhere? The only option was to wait in Rorikstead for any further news.

"I've been here before, I know that. There should be an inn here." Darlayah muttered to herself, and Cicero followed her as she headed to Frostfruit Inn, a small building in the tiny town.

As they entered the building, Darlayah rented two rooms, one for her, and one for Cicero.

"Now Cicero, I don't want any complaints about you tonight. So no singing, no laughing, no being…loud…just be quiet and considerate of others. Understood?" she asked Cicero. He nodded, before heading to his room.

Darlayah went to her own room, shutting the door and opening her journal. Luckily, she had brought an inkwell and a quill with her. She dipped the quill in the ink, and began to write.

She wrote about the dragon, about the riddles in the dark, and how she had been so close to finding Galdur. She even put the answer to her riddle in the book, lightly sketching over it, so that it was somewhat difficult to read. _Just in case a certain jester happened to find this, _she thought to herself, grinning.

After about half an hour of writing, a booming roar could be heard from outside the inn, causing Darlayah to jump. Several screams and crashes were also echoing around the inn, and the breton knew_ exactly _what it was.

"Dragon…" Darlayah muttered, leaping off the bed and grabbing her bow, slinging her quiver onto her back. When she left her room, she noticed the inn was empty, except for Cicero who was standing, waiting for Darlayah.

"Listener! Dragon!" he leapt up, hopping from one foot to the other excitedly. "Can we kill it? Can we kill it?"

"Come on, quick. I think we may have to." Cicero pulled out his ebony dagger, and stormed out the door, with Darlayah following.

Sure enough, a dragon was there. It was the golden dragon!

It was sat atop a house, burning everything it saw, and the people were screaming, running around, trying to avoid the blazing Thu'um of the beast. But something was different.

The dragon's fiery shouts were mixed with a frosty blast, which definitely did _not _come from the _dovah._

Darlayah pushed aside suspicions, pulling out her bow and one of her golden arrows, loading the bow and drawing it back. "_Morah ahrk krii…_" she muttered, as time seemed to slow down slightly as her concentration increased. "_Dir, dovah_!" she hissed, as she released the arrow, watching as it launched into the dragon's scaly hide. The beast suddenly beat his red wings, lifting itself up into the air, blood staining his jaw and neck from previous attacks by whoever was daring to challenge the beast.

It whirled around in the sky, roaring at the man below, who was dressed in full glass armour and firing at the beast with a matching glass bow. He kept missing.

The dragon suddenly stopped flying, and pointed his nose at the man on the ground. The dragon snarled. "_Hiu fent dir, joor!_" it roared, before it spiraled to the ground, jaws open, as fire spilled from his mouth, but the warrior below persisted, this time with a steel sword and a fire spell, with his bow slung onto his back. The dragon landed, falling to the ground with a crash.

"_You dare attack me, mey_?" the dragon hissed. Cicero was slashing at the beast's leg with his dagger.

Darlayah drew her bow once more, releasing another elven arrow, this time hitting the dragon's throat. It cried out, staring at Darlayah, kicking Cicero to the ground with his huge leg. "_Cicero!_" Darlayah screamed, watching as the dragon came closer.

"_Zu'u Sosyolviing_!" the beast growled, "_Hiu kos kril, joor." _the dragon said sarcastically._ "Dir nu, kendov!_"

Something changed. The creature roared, but it wasn't a challenging, growling roar, it was a cry of pain and defeat.

"_Dovahkiin…no_!" it said finally, before it fell to the ground, dead.

"_Dovahkiin_…" Darlayah repeated, eyes widening in realisation. A man appeared from the side of the dragon's body, sheathing his steel sword. "You…are you…Dragonborn?" the breton stammered, looking at the Nord in front of her.

"Dragonborn? That's what the Jarl in Whiterun said." the man looked at the dragon.

The body suddenly started to burn up, flakes of golden skin wishing away into the breeze, as the flesh dissolved, and a skeleton was revealed. The very soul of the dragon rises from the beast's corpse, and without a warning, it spiraled around the Nord warrior. "_Dovahkiin…" _Darlayah gasped, watching the wispy essence being absorbed.

They had finally found the Dragonborn.

* * *

"Galdur, you need to own up. Stop running and face the woman! You didn't do the crime, did you?"

Galdur looked up from his mead, looking his accomplice in the eye. "I didn't. But Dee'll kill me anyway. She's that type of monster." He shivered.

"Just find her first, tell her you didn't do it, and pray to Talos you don't get yourself killed."

"Skald, listen. I can't face her. Not until that killer is found. Even then I can't see her."

"Then why'd you sell they guy that stupid poem?" Skald hissed.

Galdur sighed. "He paid me at least four hundred septims for it! Even you would't have said no. He said he knew Darlayah, but I didn't realize what he'd do to get her attention." He shook his head, swirling the mead around in his tankard.

"Well, send a courier to give the breton a letter with the guy's details. Send her after him. The crime will be solved and your ass'll be saved. Piece of cake."

"It's not as easy as that. I heard she was chasing some dragon. She would be very hard to find."

"Let me find her then. I will give her the message, and if she doesn't co-operate, I'll knock her to the ground." Skald replied, getting up. "And then, I'll deal with the killer."

Galdur handed him a coin purse. "This is half of what he paid for the poem. Think of it as…payment."

Skald took the money, and patted his dwarven dagger, which was tied to his belt. "I'll be back soon, mate."

* * *

"_Dovahkiin_? Yeah, I guess…" The dragonborn stared at Darlayah's attire. She was wearing her Nightingale armour, without the hood. She had her bow slung on her back, and two daggers strapped to her hips. "Who _are_ you?" he asked out of curiosity.

"Oh, forgive me." she bowed low, much to the Nord's surprise. "I am Darlayah, a Blade. I have followed this dragon around in hopes of finding you. I am not sure if you know already, but your fate is tied to the fate of this world." The Nord tilted his head. "Alduin, the World-Eater, has returned…"

"Wait, what? Alduin? No, he was banished ages ago." he said in disbelief. "Well, anyway, I better introduce myself. I am Kodai, but I have a feeling you already know me as the Dragonborn."

Cicero peered from around the dragon's leg, clutching his stomach as he wandered over to his Listener. "Um...Mr Dragonborn? Cicero found your friend." the Jester pointed to a rather tall Imperial who was behind him. "He is _perfectly_ fine, by the way. But not Cicero. Everything hurts. It not fun being kicked by a dragon..."

"Come here, Cicero. I have a potion for you." Cicero happily limped over to Darlayah, who offered him a small red bottle. "You were very brave." she whispered, and Cicero smiled weakly.

"Thank you, great and powerful Listener!" Cicero drank the potion, whimpering a little, before he was finally able to start standing properly, even if his side still hurt. "That dragon wasn't very nice." he mumbled. Darlayah laughed.

"I…don't think you've met my friend." Kodai stood towards the two assassins, all of a sudden looking quite short compared to his friend. "This is Benedict. Ben, this is Darlayah."

"Sup." the other Nord said bluntly. "Who's the clown?"

Darlayah suddenly started to dislike Benedict. "Ben, Kodai, this is Cicero. He's not a clown, he's a jester. Be careful what you say around him…" she murmured, and Cicero raised an eyebrow. "Anyway, I need to take you to the remaining Blades. They have something they need to discuss with you."

"Who are the Blades?" Kodai asked.

"Well, I guess it's no surprise you don't know them. They used to defend the Dragonborn emperors, but they were pretty much destroyed during the Great War. There's only a few left, and we have been searching for you."

"…Searching for me? Why?" Kodai was surprised. Had he not known about his own destiny?

"I told you about Alduin, right? He's returned and all that, and only the Dragonborn can stop him."

Kodai froze, all of a sudden looking uncomfortable."I have to…defeat Alduin? The dragon of legend? Surely this is a joke…"

"It's no joke. If you want, I can take you to the Greybeards. They can tell you about this stuff. Unless you've already seen them, of course."

"Greybeards? They're on top of the mountain, right?"

"Yeah. I study the Voice with them." Darlayah replied, and Kodai looked confused.

"You can…Shout?" he asked. "How?"

"It's a long story, and I honestly have no time to tell stories right now. If you are willing, we could leave tomorrow morning. It's only a short trip to the Sky Haven Temple, which isn't too far from here. Do you have horses?" Kodai shrugged.

"That dragon might have scared them off. I'll look for them in a minute." Kodai said, and Cicero stepped forward.

"Maybe we can just walk. Cicero enjoys walking. A nice little walk through the countryside." he said, waltzing around the Dragonborn and his friend.

Benedict spoke up. "You _travel _with this guy? What is he, insane?"

"Yes." Darlayah stated, almost with a hiss.

"Ugh. He's so annoying." Ben stuck his foot out, causing Cicero to trip, falling on the floor. Instead of getting mad, he just sat and laughed.

"Ha ha ha! That was funny. Again! Again!" he said, before suddenly clutching his belly again with a whine. "Maybe not again."

Darlayah almost felt like punching Benedict. "Don't touch him! He's just been kicked by a dragon, you idiot." she growled, helping the jester up to his feet. "Look - we need your help. Kodai, all I need you to do is help defeat Alduin, that way I can finally get back to doing what I love and stop having the fucking nightmares." Her voice trailed off as she realized what she had said. _He doesn't need to know about the nightmares, _she scolded herself.

"Stop having what?" Darlayah remained silent. Kodai continued, shaking his head. "Alright, just…show us how to get to this…temple. We'll head out tomorrow." He nodded, and Benedict looked at the sky.

"I think it's getting dark." he said simply, heading towards the Frostfruit Inn.

"Is he always like that?" Darlayah asked Kodai. He shrugged.

"He's just being Ben, I guess." Kodai said, before they headed into the Inn.

* * *

"Got any sweet rolls? I need a bit of sugar…" Darlayah yawned a little, exchanging a few coins for the sugary cake. "Thanks."

"No problem. You're up early. What's happening this morning?" Mralki asked, tucking the gold in his pocket.

"Going to see some friends. Have to leave early." she replied, nibbling on the sweet roll.

"Listener! You're awake." Cicero came out of his rented room, stretching his arms out above him, going over to Darlayah and the Innkeeper and sitting on the barstool next to her. "Cicero went to sleep last night. Sleep!" the jester said proudly, causing Mralki to give him an odd look.

"Is this a…friend?" the innkeeper asked.

"Something like that." she muttered, breaking off a bit of her cake and handing it to Cicero, who gratefully accepted it. "Have you seen the rest of my company? One's a tall imperial and the other's a short Nord. Hard to miss."

"No, they haven't gotten up yet." Mralki replied.

"Lazy swines." Darlayah laughed, handing the rest of her sweet roll to Cicero. "Right, I'm off to get changed. Be back in a bit." She was dressed in a simple tunic, one of which she always wore beneath her armour for comfort reasons.

When she went inside the small room, she shut the door and pulled out her armour from the chest at the end of the bed. Her hood was on the side table, gleaming in the light of the nearby candle. Darlayah put on her main armour, before slipping into her boots and gauntlets. She then attached her belt and pouch to her hip, and slipped her two daggers into the sheaths on her thighs. Darlayah then slid her quiver and bow onto her back, before grabbing her hood and heading out the room.

"Cicero?" Darlayah muttered, tilting her head.

Cicero was sat on a bench near the fire pit, plucking away at a lute that had been abandoned by the counter. He was humming the same tune he was playing, and for some reason, Darlayah though he seemed…sane.

"Listener, look! Cicero's a bard!" he said, breaking the thought and showing Darlayah the lute in his hands. "Hum dee dee! Look at me, Cicero's a bard. He plays the lute, at the inn of Frostfruit, the wonderful Fool of Hearts!" he sang with pride, and Darlayah applauded, laughing.

"Come on, hand it over before you break it." she said, reaching for the lute. Cicero pulled it away.

"Nooo. It's mine now."

"Cicero-"

"But Listeneerrr!" the jester whined, before finally handing the instrument over to the breton. She happily took it, and Cicero watched with awe as she played a melody on it. "Wow. Dawn is really good." he complimented.

"Alright, when are we leaving." Benedict appeared from his room, dressed in steel armour with a dwarven war axe in his back. Darlayah frowned when she saw him.

"We'll be leaving as soon as the Dragonborn wakes." she replied, continuing to play the lute, and ignoring Ben.

"And the Dragonborn is awake." Kodai walked out of his room his glass armour on, and his bow and quiver on his back. "When should we leave?" he asked, and Darlayah gave the lute back to Cicero, and stood up. "As soon as you're both ready." she answered.

"I think I'm ready to go. Ben? What about you?" Benedict shrugged, and walked out the inn. Darlayah grumbled to herself.

"Ooh! Are we going now? Well, off we go!" Cicero took the Listener's arm and took her out the door, leaving the lute behind. Kodai followed with a confused look on his face. "I can't believe I'm following these two." he muttered, shaking his head.

* * *

They had been walking for twenty minutes, with Darlayah and Cicero leading their horses and the Dragonborn and his friend with theirs behind them. Kodai had found their own horses, which were hiding behind the Inn the whole time, evading the dragon.

"So, Darlayah, how do you know where you're going? It's rather easy to get lost in Skyrim." Kodai finally spoke up, breaking the silence that had hovered over the group. Darlayah looked behind her.

"I have a map with me at all times. I've also been wandering Skyrim for at least ten years. I know my way around fairly well." She replied, and Kodai nodded.

"Ten years? What were you doing before that?" he pressed on, curious to find out more about the breton.

"Well, I spent my life from about ten years old onwards until eighteen with the Greybeards. I would study with them, because I had no other place to go. I don't remember anything from when I was much younger, though."

"Woah. So is that how you can Shout?"

"Well…yeah. I guess so." Darlayah replied, "There's more to the story though." she added. "Come on, I think we should ride the rest of the way."

The Dragonborn agreed, and soon, the four adventurers were moving a lot faster.

"This is taking a while." Benedict said, sighing. Darlayah rolled her eyes.

"It's only been about twenty minutes. Be patient." she snapped. Cicero laughed.

"Oh, I don't think Listener likes you!" he whispered to Ben, who shrugged as if he didn't care.

"Not the first time I've realized." the Imperial replied, glaring coldly at Darlayah, who was so close to firing a destruction spell at him.

"Guys! Let's just…get to this temple, find out what these, 'Blades' want, and be done with it. _Sheesh_." Kodai said, causing Darlayah and Benedict to immediately become silent.

Cicero began to hum in the silence, and it was obvious that Ben did _not _like it. He grumbled to himself, adjusting his steel helmet, attempting to block out the sound. It didn't work. "Could you maybe…oh, I don't know…be quiet?!" he finally growled, but the Jester simply chuckled.

"The_ brave_ and _mighty _warriorcannot bear to listen to poor Cicero. Ha!" he laughed, making Ben red with anger. Darlayah decided to intervene.

"Cicero, shut up. Benedict…say anything more and I _will _slit your throat. Understood?" her tone was threatening, and Ben simply shrugged.

"Whatever." he said simply, riding ahead of the group.

"Just ignore him. I guess he's just in a bad mood." Kodai muttered, urging his horse to catch up with Ben's. "Come on, we should probably go a little faster."

Darlayah didn't realise, but when Kodai caught up with Ben, they had a small, private conversation. The breton didn't even know they were talking to one another.

"You don't actually _trust _that lady, do you?" Benedict whispered, being careful not to alert either Cicero or Darlayah.

"Not really, to be honest. Did you hear what she said to you? 'I will slit your throat'? She's probably as mad as the jester following her." Kodai replied quietly.

"Then what are you going to do?" Ben muttered.

"What areyou guys talking about?" Cicero suddenly rode forwards, interested in the conversation. He hadn't heard anything, he was simply bored and wanted someone to talk to.

"Back up, clown." Ben hissed, which caught Darlayah's attention.

"Look, we're here!" she said quickly, breaking up the conversation and pointing to a temple on the small mountain in front of her. "Usually, we would ride up the other side of the mountain, but I think, because we now have the dragonborn, we could try the main entrance." The Listener gestured for them to follow her, as she rode ahead of all three of the men.

Ben took this chance to speak again, forgetting Cicero was still there. "How can we be sure she _is _a…'Blade'? She's probably an assassin for all we know." he whispered. "She's probably going to kill you."

"I think you're probably just exaggerating." Kodai replied. Ben shook his head.

"I think I'm right." he protested.

"Well…let's just…stick with her plan, and if it all goes wrong…then you know what to do." Kodai muttered, and Benedict nodded, and they both rode forward, leaving Cicero about ten meters behind them.

"He will 'know what to do'?" Cicero repeated, tilting his head, before he suddenly realized what he had meant. "Don't touch my Listener, worm." he growled, before urging his horse into a canter, catching up to Darlayah. "Listener!" he called out, as he drew closer and closer to the breton.

"What's wrong, Cicero?" she asked, puzzled.

All Cicero did was point to the Dragonborn and his friend, before muttering, "They don't trust you! Cicero thinks the tall one is going to kill you…!"

Darlayah laughed, shaking her head. "Don't worry. Everything is going to be fine. If he _dares _lay a finger on his blade, then he find himself hanging upside down with blood dripping from his neck." Cicero nodded, realizing this is the _Listener. _She was strong, brave, and very fierce.

"Yes Listener! But, what if he does try…to…hurt you?" he still asked, lowering his voice. Darlayah patted her blades, shooting a quick glance at Benedict. "Ah, I see…" Cicero whispered, chuckling. "Dear Cicero will keep you from harm!" he said, before the group finally reached the Sky Haven Temple.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: ONLY GALDUR, MISTY, SKALD, BENEDICT, KODAI AND DARLAYAH BELONG TO ME. THE REST OF THE CHARACTERS ARE OWNED BY BETHESDA :3**

**well actually to tell you the truth, kodai only really *half* belongs to me. a friend of mine wanted his skyrim character in the story, so...yeah.**

**kodai is here :D**

**BTW this took a little longer than expected because im currently in another country, which means i dont get internet tooooo often and i dont get that much time on my computer. **

**Also, please check out my DeviantArt page! I have a bunch of Skyrim/Darlayah/Cicero related crap on there, so be sure to check it out! (my DA page is my FF username with . at the end :3)**

* * *

"Ugh. It smells in here." Benedict complained, crossing his arms. Darlayah rolled her eyes.

"Well, there's probably a rotting corpse somewhere around here. Maybe two." she answered bluntly, lighting a torch and waving it around a little. "Come on, we need to find the others."

Kodai and Benedict followed Darlayah, looking around the temple with wide eyes. Cicero was looking rather nervous, and stayed quite close to the Listener. He was afraid Benedict would try to hurt her.

Darlayah didn't seem too bothered. She simply ignored Cicero, forgot about Benedict, and led the Dragonborn through the ruins.

"So…these 'Blades'…what will they do with me once you have brought me to them?" Kodai asked, breaking the silence. Darlayah shrugged, allowing the Nord to catch up to her.

"Hopefully, they should have found a way to defeat Alduin. So all they need you for is to do the deed itself." she replied.

"Alduin…so I have to…defeat him?" the Dragonborn said, "By the Gods, I never thought being Dragonborn had anything to do with this." he sighed.

"The Blades will help you do this, you know. And you also have your friend over there. You won't be alone." Darlayah said, patting the Nord's back, before running back towards Cicero, who was glaring coldly at Benedict. "Cicero…leave him alone…" she muttered to the jester.

"…Yes Listener…" Cicero replied, giving Ben one last glare before joining Darlayah.

Benedict slowed down a bit so that Kodai could catch up. "That jester is driving me mad…" he muttered angrily, crossing his arms. Kodai ignored his statement.

"You know what, maybe we _can _trust these two." he mumbled, and Benedict stared at him in disbelief.

"You're kidding…right? Have you _seen _that man? He's absolutely out of his mind! And the breton must be insane as well to let him follow her around all day." the Imperial whispered rather loudly, causing Cicero to turn around nervously. He gave Ben an odd look, which made Darlayah sigh.

"Cicero, leave them alone." she said to the jester, and he reluctantly obeyed.

"They didn't trust you!" Cicero protested.

"Look at us. If _you _saw a fully armoured woman and a jester walking around, would _you _trust them?" Cicero opened his mouth to speak, but Darlayah interrupted him. "Actually, don't answer that. All I'm saying is that you should stop glaring at them. You're probably making them more suspicious."

Cicero nodded. "Yes, Dawn." he muttered guiltily, slowing down slightly, deliberately allowing Darlayah to move ahead.

"Oh, come on Cicero. Don't look at me like that. Come over here." Darlayah said, tilting her head at Cicero, who looked like a puppy who had just done something wrong.

His expression suddenly changed, as he happily caught up to the Listener, clapping his hands.

"You are so strange." Darlayah said, laughing. "Kodai? Ben? You still there? Get over here." she then called out, gesturing for the two adventurers to move faster.

In front of them was an unusual complex of structures and puzzles, with sunlight pouring in through the massive gap in the cave which the temple was built in. It was an amazing sight.

"Wow. This is actually pretty cool." Benedict murmured, staring at the various bridges and levers around him.

"Congratulations on your first positive statement…" Darlayah said sarcastically, grinning at Ben, who scowled. "Oh come on, it's just a joke." She said, laughing.

"Ha ha ha. Very funny." the Imperial mumbled in annoyance.

"Lighten up, Ben." Kodai said, making Benedict completely silent.

"Alright guys, let's continue. The Blades and I have already been through and activated all the traps and solved all the puzzles, so all we need to do is make it to the blood-sealed door." Darlayah said, extinguishing the flame on her torch and throwing it aside.

"Wait, the door is blood-sealed?" Kodai asked as the group ventured further into the temple.

"Yep. It needs blood to be opened. _Your _blood, in fact." Darlayah replied, pointing to the Dragonborn's hands. "You'll need to shed a bit of blood in order to get through."

Kodai looked at his hands, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Ouch. So we couldn't just climb up the other side? Wouldn't that be a lot easier?" he asked.

"Not really. It took a _lot _of effort trying to climb up there with the horses. In fact, the reason the Blades are still up here is because they can't be bothered having to climb all the way down, only to climb back up again. But if you wanna start climbing, be my guest." Darlayah pointed to the entrance of the temple jokingly. "Come on, we have a little bit of walking left to go."

After about ten minutes, the group finally reached a large stone carving of a face. It was the blood-seal door, and it stood in a roofless cave with a chest in the middle and the Akaviri symbol for dragonborn in front of the huge face.

"Well, here it is. The chest is empty, by the way." Darlayah said to Benedict, who was already going through the chest in case it had anything inside. "We ransacked it earlier. When we first found out about this place, we came right away, and when we finally reached this carving, it turned out it was a door, a door which cannot be opened by anyone but the Dragonborn. So Kodai, if you could co-operate here…" she gestured slicing her hand, and Kodai gulped.

"Oh, uh…sure thing…" he muttered, as he went to the blood seal in front of the door. "Well, here goes nothing…" He pulled out a small steel dagger, and sliced at his hand, wincing at the slight pain. He watched as the blood dripped from his hand.

Suddenly, the blood seal came to life, glowing and spinning, giving Kodai just enough time to leap off the symbol. The huge head lifted up, slowly rising backwards into the ceiling, and before long, the face was facing the stairway to Alduin's Wall.

"Yes! We did it! Come on, I'll take you to Alduin's Wall so you can meet the Blades." Darlayah said excitedly, running off into the corridor.

"Hey, wait! How many Blades are there?" Kodai asked quickly, causing Darlayah to stop immediately.

"Oh, there's two. Not including me." She replied casually, before heading back up the stairs with Cicero skipping after her.

"Two? That hardly seems a lot." Ben muttered to his companion, who had a look of confusion plastered onto his face. "Oh well. Let's go see these…'Blades'…"

* * *

"Sorry sir, she left a few days ago. I told her about this 'Dragonborn' nonsense, and I haven't seen her since."

"Damn it. If she comes back here, be sure to let me know." Skald growled, leaving the Bannered Mare and sulking on the steps by the front door.

_The Dragonborn, eh?_ Skald thought, wondering why she had disappeared at the mention of the hero of old. _Why the Dragonborn? I thought she was chasing a dragon..._

"Looking for Darlayah?" A middle-aged Nord woman approached Skald, dressed in full steel armour with a shield on her hip. "I guess that makes two of us. The name's Lydia. I'm her housecarl."

Skald looked up at the warrior, and raised an eyebrow. "Aren't youmeant to be following her?"

"Well, yes…but she disappeared. The last I heard of her was that she was chasing a dragon."

"I heard it was the Dragonborn she was chasing, as well as some dragon." Skald replied, thinking things through.

"The Dragonborn? Not that rumour again." Lydia said, rolling her eyes. "It's not true. There hasn't been a dragonborn since…forever."

"Well, if she is chasing a dragon, why?" Skald was confused. "Those things are damn hard to keep up with." Why was Darlayah going after a dragon? Following a dragon is a difficult task, considering their size and speed.

"I have no idea." Lydia answered, and she turned to leave. "Wait - why do _you_ need to find her?" she added, looking suspiciously at the Nord man sitting on the steps.

"That's none of your business. Tell you what - how about you help me find her? If you're her housecarl, you would know her better than me. You should know where she prefers to go."

"I don't know…but I _am _beginning to worry. I guess it's a deal." Lydia firmly shook Skald's hand, as he rose to his feet. "You tell me when you're ready to head out, and we'll go."

"I think I'm good to head out_ now_." Skald replied, adjusting his Thieves Guild hood. "Let's go."

* * *

"Kodai, is it? Well, I'm Delphine. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Kodai seemed a little uncomfortable. Almost everyone in the temple was taller than him, especially Benedict, and it was quite an odd sight.

"So, you're the Dragonborn. We have yet to see if that's true." Esbern, the Blade's archiver, stepped forward, crossing his arms.

"There's no need for that. I witnessed him absorbing a dragon soul myself." Darlayah said, interrupting.

"Very well." Esbern stepped back again.

"By the way, Darlayah, we found out how Alduin was defeated before." Delphine said, and Darlayah immediately perked up.

"You did? How?"

"Let me finish. It was some sort of shout that brought him down. It was recorded on Alduin's Wall." Delphine replied, and Kodai tilted his head. "Dragonborn, do you know of a shout like this? Esbern says it could bring a dragon down from the sky."

"Well…no. Not really. I think the Greybeards might know, though." Kodai replied, and Delphine narrowed her eyes at the mention of the monks in High Hrothgar.

"And _why _would the Greybeards want to help?" the Blade said, a hint of irritation in her tone.

"We can reason with them. You know, we could just talk it out. He's the _Dovahkiin_, of course they'll help." Darlayah intervened. "They have to."

Delphine and Esbern glanced at each other, before looking back at the Dragonborn and his group. "Fine. Go see your Greybeard friends. See what they have to say." Esbern finally said after a moment of silence.

Benedict was the first to leave. He happily marched out of the temple with Cicero, who was humming to himself. Rolling her eyes, Darlayah followed them, leaving Kodai with the two Blades.

"What have you got against the Greybeards?" he had asked them, curious as to why they seemed reluctant to include the monks in the Alduin situation.

"All they do is sit on top of their mountain Shouting at the sky, or whatever it is they do. They completely block out all other problems, as if it had nothing to do with them. They just confine themselves and forget about the power they have. The power _you _have. If it weren't for Darlayah, you'd probably be up in their little temple doing absolutely nothing." Delphine replied, and Kodai nodded. "The dragon crisis would probably have never even been considered by them."

"I get what you're saying. Don't worry - we'll get their help and we _will _slay Alduin." he said proudly, before he ran after Darlayah and the group.

"There you are! We were waiting for you." Darlayah exclaimed when Kodai finally came out of the temple. "It's just a simple slide down this slope to our horses. Come on!"

They were in the courtyard outside the Sky Haven Temple, and the only way down was by going down the hillside. There was probably some other way down, but Darlayah thought it would be more fun to slide down instead.

The breton assassin leaped over the small wall that went around the courtyard, and began to step quickly down the slope. It wasn't too steep, and before long, Darlayah had reached the bottom. She called up for the others to follow, but only Cicero came. Instead of carefully stepping down, he sat down and slid down, laughing like an idiot as he crashed at the bottom of the mountain.

"Ben! Kodai! Your turn!" Darlayah called up, as she helped the jester get up off the ground. Benedict and Kodai slid down the mountain smoothly, and soon, the group had reached their horses and were riding to the Whiterun hold, where the Throat of the World stood proud and tall.

* * *

"I think it would be best if we stayed here for the night instead of climbing the mountain in the dark." Darlayah suggested as the four came across Whiterun. "I'll pay for your rooms at the inn, if you'd like."

"That'd be great, thanks." Kodai replied as they rode up to the stables, before dismounting and heading into the city.

The day was drawing to a close, and it was nearly time for dinner, and Darlayah wished she was back at the Sanctuary enjoying Nazir's delicious recipes and stews, but with Kodai and Ben around _that _couldn't happen. _They aren't to know I'm an assassin, _she told herself. _How would they trust me and Cicero then?_

As they walked down the path to the Bannered Mare, Cicero observed the town, as he had never been inside the walls before. "Where do you live, Listener?" he asked, tapping Darlayah on the shoulder. She turned with an uncomfortable look on her face, which made Cicero pull his hand away quite quickly.

"Could you…could you not call me that?" she asked, and the Keeper almost gasped.

"…Why not?" he questioned, with a confused look on his face.

"It's just…Astrid doesn't exactly believe I am this…'Listener', so I don't think she'd appreciate me walking around saying, 'I am the Listener! I am the Listener!" Darlayah's chant sounded uncannily like Cicero. "And…uh….also because we have those two following us. Don't want them to ask questions, right?" Darlayah added quickly, and Cicero nodded.

"Yes List - I mean, yes Dawn…"

"Thank you. Anyway, you asked me a question?" Cicero was just about to answer, but they had reached the Bannered Mare. As they entered the building, Darlayah noticed that it was rather full. "Let's hope we can get some rooms for you three." she stated quietly, as she approached Hulda, the innkeeper.

"Come on in. Let me know if you need anything." She said, as she cleaned the counter.

"Hi, I have some friends with me staying in Whiterun, so I was wondering how many rooms you have spare." Darlayah replied.

"Well, as you can see, we have quite a few visitors. We have two rooms left, both have small beds in them. Enough for two people - oh, you have three with you. I'm not sure how that will work…" Hulda said, as she looked at Darlayah's companions.

"Oh, that's alright. I have a room spare in my house. That's if my housecarl isn't staying with me." Darlayah answered, "How much for the two rooms?"

"Twenty septims for one night." Darlayah handed the money over the counter, smiling at the low price. "Which two of your three are staying here?"

"I'll ask them." Darlayah went over to Kodai, Cicero and Ben, who were standing by the fire insulting each other. "Hey, you guys, who wants to stay here? I can have one of you in my spare room if you-" Suddenly, Ben and Kodai raised their hands, both quickly saying they'll stay in the inn as quick as an arrow. Cicero barely had any time to even open his mouth to speak. The two adventurers quickly followed Hulda upstairs to their rooms, leaving Cicero behind. "Well then. Look's like you're staying with me…" Darlayah said, almost with a sigh. The jester simply smiled, looking at the ground somewhat sheepishly.

"So Darlayah. Where _did _you go? I heard you were chasing some dragon." Hulda had appeared from upstairs, and was now behind Darlayah, who had almost jumped in shock at the sudden voice.

"Dragons? Why would I be chasing dragons? That's virtually impossible. Have you _seen _how fast those things can fly?" She replied in a convincing tone, and Hulda shrugged.

"Sorry for asking. It's just that this man was looking for you. Is it alright if when I next see him, I tell him where you are?"

"No." Darlayah said quickly, face becoming stern. "Not if he didn't leave his name. Did he?"

"No, actually. He just wanted to know where you had gone. That's all. I'll see you later then, Dee."

Leaving the inn, Darlayah and Cicero headed down the path. The sky was beginning to become a golden colour, and small, sparkly specks began to appear behind the dispersing clouds. "So…where does Dawn live? You never told curious Cicero." The jester completely ignored Hulda and Darlayah's previous conversation, acting as though he had never heard anything.

His question almost startled Darlayah. She was beginning to get lost in thoughts, breaking away from reality as she imagined things in her mind. Questions like '_Who wanted to see me?' _and _'What was his name?' _burst into her brain. "Oh, right. I live just down here, in this little house by the blacksmiths. Ooh, there it is. Come on, I'll show you inside. It's nothing spectacular, but it's where I live for now." Darlayah replied, shaking her head and shooting away any remaining thoughts. She rummaged through her little leather pouch for her key, humming to herself as she unlocked the door and allowed Cicero to go inside. "Here we are. I'll make some dinner for you, and then I'll show you where you'll sleep."

"Okay!" Cicero said cheerily, as he happily made himself at home, flinging himself onto a chair like a rag doll. "Cicero thinks this is a nice house. Ooh! What's that?!" He pointed at a weapon plaque, which held a polished and gleaming glass war axe. "It looks _deadly!_" he commented, clapping his hands like a child. Darlayah rolled her eyes.

"It's just an old weapon. I may or may not have stolen it." she stated bluntly, grinning.

"Ah, of course!" Cicero replied, chuckling. "What's for dinner? Poor Cicero is hungry…" He mock pouted, which brought out a laugh from Darlayah.

"I don't know. I'll just make a stew or something. I have some beef somewhere." She went over to her small kitchen, where she had a few sacks and pots laid out on a shelf filled with various ingredients and meats. "I wonder where Lydia went…" she mumbled to herself as she found a small pot filled with diced beef. "Perfect!" she said as she grabbed a few other things, before heading over to the cooking pot in the middle of the room.

Eventually, Darlayah had piled enough ingredients into the pot so that she was able to call it a soup. Cicero occasionally tested it, offering both advise and nonsensical little rhymes.

Darlayah begun to realize that she actually enjoyed Cicero's company. Sure, he was pretty much insane, but he was still an entertaining character who she liked to talk to and joke with. Sometimes, however, he would slightly annoy her, but he had the mind to shut up immediately if he sensed something was wrong. She wasn't sure if it was because he thought she was the Listener, or if he was generally a kind person.

"Hmm…maybe a bit of salt will make this absolutely _perfect! _And then we can eat it. Cicero is very hungry…" Cicero said, rubbing his stomach as he eyed the stew hungrily.

"Yes, I know." Darlayah laughed, "How about you go grab two bowls off the shelf over there, and then you can eat as much as you want." She yawned a little, stretching her tired muscles as she collapsed onto the chair near the fire pit, curling up into it. She was tired, very tired, and all she wanted to do was sleep, but the realisation that the jester was still in the room made her feel slightly uncomfortable, so she kept her blue eyes open for a while longer.

Cicero handed her a bowl, before kindly filling it with some soup. "Oh, thank you…" Darlayah mumbled, before she stuffed a spoonful into her mouth. She had barely eaten anything all day. "Is it alright?" she asked Cicero, who nodded with a huge smile on his face, wolfing down the stew greedily. "When you've finished, I'll show you to the spare room. It's quite small, but I think it'll be alright. If you need any extra blankets or anything, then go get it yourself. I'm no slave." Darlayah joked.

After they had finished all the stew in the pot, Darlayah showed Cicero to the bed in which he was to sleep in. Next to the bed, an orange and black lute lay, along with some papers underneath. "What are these?" Cicero asked curiously, as he picked up a few of the papers. "Ooh, these are songs!"

He was right. In her spare time, Darlayah would use Lydia's writing tools and write a few lyrics and notes, but she felt as though she was a hopeless writer, so she would often scrap them and hide them under the bed. But she mustn't have hid them particularly well, as Cicero found them straight away.

Snatching the sheets from Cicero's hands, Darlayah blushed. "They're also none of your business. Now go to bed." she commanded, and Cicero said no more.

Instead of _talking, _the Keeper grabbed the lute, and started plucking the strings, playing a simple tune that made Darlayah roll her eyes. "Go to bed." she repeated, hitting Cicero somewhat playfully on the head. She left the room, shutting the door and heading to her own bedroom. She flopped onto her bed, laying face down on the fluffy bed covers with her arms and legs sprawled everywhere.

She lay on her bed like that for several hours, unable to and unwilling to go to sleep, both because of the presence of Cicero in the house, and because of her nightmares. Eventually though, she managed to move her fatigued body over, so that she was lying on her back.

The house was silent, not a single dog bark or rain drop could be heard. The silence was almost…maddening.

She wanted to hear something. It was just too quiet. No noise, no voices, no wind, no rain…not even Cicero was making a sound. So she began to sing.

She created quiet verses and sweet choruses in her mind, making up rhyming words and quietly singing to herself - like a subtle lullaby that only she could hear. Or so she thought. Darlayah had no idea that Cicero hadn't yet slept, and he was sitting in his bed listening to her soft tune, as her door was still very much open. She sang for a good ten minutes, and eventually, Darlayah had lulled both herself and her companion to sleep.

* * *

"…Dawn?" Cicero's voice echoed through Darlayah's head. Was this another nightmare?

"Daaawnnnn?" His voice became louder, and the breton realised she was no longer asleep when she felt someone pushing her shoulder, trying to wake her up.

"Okay…okay…I'm up." Darlayah muttered sleepily, yawning and sitting up. Her eyes suddenly opened, as she realised that Cicero was in her bedroom standing over her. "Wait- what in Oblivion are you doing in here?" she asked with annoyance in her voice. Cicero jumped at her snappy reply.

"I'm scared." he murmured.

"…What…?" Darlayah looked with disbelief at the man standing in front of her. Cicero was staring nervously at the ground, sad amber eyes looking as though tears were ready to fall any second. "Oh, what's wrong?" Her tone became pitiful as she gestured for Cicero to sit on the bed next to her. "Are you alright?" She gently placed a hand on the Imperial's shoulder. It seemed as though his madness had drained away for a moment, as the jester's gaze trailed from the ground to Darlayah.

"Poor Cicero had bad dreams. They were much more frightening than normal…" His eyes had a terrified look in them, and Darlayah knew that these nightmares weren't just the usual kind.

"Why? What happened? Would you like to tell me?" Her tone became almost motherly, as she gently patted Cicero's back, watching as he glanced back at the floor again.

"…I can't." He replied softly, before a look in his eyes told Darlayah the very opposite.

"Yes you can."

"Well…" The jester looked slightly uncomfortable, as though he was simply unable to speak his mind.

"Come on, you know you can tell me." Darlayah assured him, smiling kindly. Cicero stirred, but eventually, he sighed.

"Well…I...oh. I really cannot say. No! I shall not repeat-" Cicero's words were cut off by Darlayah, who had suddenly wrapped her arms around him. A single tear had rolled down his cheek, which had immediately made Darlayah feel upset and pitiful.

"…Dawn?"

She quickly realised what she had done, and she let go of Cicero, who was staring at her with wide eyes. "What did you dream?" Darlayah said simply, pretending nothing had just happened. "Please tell me. I can't really help you if I don't know what happened."

"Oh, alright…" Cicero finally said, with some reluctance. "Cicero was given a contract…and…this contract was…" Darlayah tilted her head in confusion.

"Well?"

"The contract was…you." the jester said, all of a sudden looking guilty, as if he had just said some awful profanity. "And then…it…you said…oh! Poor Cicero can't say it. No more. No more!" Cicero suddenly curled up next to Darlayah, shivering as though he had been laying outside in the snow.

"Why is that so bad? It was just a dream. It's not real."

"So are yours! But the Listener is still afraid of them." Cicero's comment was unexpected.

"Well…mine are different. All you did was kill me. Or did you?" Darlayah asked. She didn't really care about what happened, she just wanted to know why Cicero was so upset about it.

"…I did. Foolish Cicero is sorry! Even you said, it was just a drea-"

"Yes, yes I know! It was a dream. But why are you so afraid of it?" the Listener interrupted, getting slightly impatient.

"Why are you so afraid of yours? Hmm?" Cicero said, before quickly hiding his face in his hands. "No, no! Cicero is sorry! I didn't mean it! Oh, foolish Cicero!"

"…You are so odd." Darlayah commented, shaking her head in exasperation. But why _was _she so afraid of the nightmares she had? What was it about the World-Eater that made her so afraid? Normal dragons never frightened her, and Paarthurnax seemed alright…but there was something about the way they were in her dreams that made the beasts so much more terrifying than what they actually were.

"Not the first time I've heard that." A reply from Cicero broke Darlayah's thoughts, returning her mind back to reality. She looked at the imperial, who was sadly staring into space with his head against the Listener, but he didn't seem as distressed as he had been at first.

The breton didn't know what to do. Was she to let him sleep on the end of her bed like a house-cat? Or should she send him back to the spare room? She felt as though she still didn't quite trust the man enough to allow him to sleep in the same room as her, but it would feel cruel to tell him to go back to his room.

"Could Dawn…possibly…um…" Cicero struggled to speak, covering his face with his hands in embarrassment. "Could Dawn sing for poor Cicero? Maybe? _Please_?"

Darlayah was rather surprised at the Imperial's request. But then again, he did have the heart and mind of a three year old. "Oh…well I…." was all she managed to say, looking around the room awkwardly. Cicero lay his head against Darlayah, staring at her with wide, puppy-dog eyes. "Pleeeaaassee?" he begged, and Darlayah rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry Cicero, I think you should head back into your room. If you have any more nightmares, then help yourself to some warm milk. That stuff works wonders. I'll see you in the morning."

Another tear tumbled across Cicero's face as he sadly got up, and began to walk out of Darlayah's room.

_"Little child, don't be afraid._

_Mother's here and waiting._

_I will never leave again,_

_You'll never have to worry."_

Darlayah sang softly, her voice gentle yet sad as she stared at the ground guiltily. Cicero turned around, and quickly lay on the end of the bed, listening eagerly to her sweet voice.

_"The dreams will never come again,_

_The gods will stand and guide you._

_I'll never have to leave again,_

_I'll always be here to guide you._

_Little child, try not to cry,_

_Your father won't come back here._

_But he'll always be around you._

_You'll never have to worry._

_The dreams will never come again,_

_Your pa will stand and guide you._

_I may soon have to leave again,_

_But I'll always try to guide you."_

Her soft voice became quieter as Cicero struggled to keep his eyes open. Darlayah quietly sung another verse, before finally, the Keeper was silent and sleeping

Darlayah quickly glanced at Cicero, before leaving the room. He seemed…calm, almost sane, as his madness and unrest didn't show on his face. Instead, he looked like a calm child sleeping near to his mother. Quiet, and unmoving. She was beginning to feel almost sorry for the Imperial.

_Now where are you going to sleep? _Darlayah scolded herself, as she went and had a look in Cicero's previous room. _Not in there, that's for damn sure._ There was something about the thought of sleeping in a bed Cicero had just slept in that made her uncomfortable. _I guess I could sleep in the chairs downstairs…_

Carefully and quietly, Darlayah grabbed some spare blankets, before gently stepping down the stairs. She glanced at the chairs, before flinging herself onto one of them, laying a blanket on her body.

Each time she blinked, her eyes stayed shut for longer, until soon, she was asleep. Her dreams were sweet and gentle, and no nightmares dared to haunt her as she slept.

* * *

"I think we should run _now. _That woman and her retarded little friend are _not _to be trusted, Kodai!" Benedict whispered angrily as Kodai bought them some breakfast from Hulda.

"I know they seem a bit odd, but this whole 'Blades' thing seems legit." the Dragonborn replied, handing his friend some food and drink. "I think they're trustworthy enough. Now eat, we have one more trip until we reach these Greybeard people."

Benedict rolled his eyes and shook his head. "I can't believe you're trusting them. I just can't believe it." he muttered.

The two companions sat in the Bannered Mare, eating and drinking, before they both got up and headed to their own rented rooms to change into more suitable apparel. They were currently dressed in civilian clothes, which was not going to help protect them in any way against Skyrim's harsh wilderness. Sure, the Throat of the World was fairly close to Whiterun, but wild and savage animals still wandered about in the forests surrounding the mountain.

When the two had both suited up and extracted all their belongings from their room, they started to head out, but Hulda stopped them.

"You're with the Darlayah girl, yes?" she asked, and Kodai nodded suspiciously. "I feel sorry for you two." she said, before heading back behind the counter.

"Wait, what?" Benedict narrowed his eyes, following the woman.

"Oh, that woman is a strange one. She has the most unusual personality, as well as this issue with trusting people. When did you meet her?"

"Two days ago. Why?" Kodai replied, raising an eyebrow.

"Only two days? And she is letting you follow her? Gods, she _is _a strange one…" Hulda said, shaking her head. Kodai and Ben's confused expressions made her continue. "Normally, it would take weeks, or even months for Darlayah to even feel comfortable enough to _talk_ to you. I just don't understand why she-" Hulda suddenly cut off, glaring at Kodai, as though she knew him. "Wait…you're the…Dragonborn…" she said, "Is it true then? Are you _really _this magical hero everyone hopes you to be?"

"Well…I guess so…I can do everything that a Dragonborn _can _do, if that's what you want to know…" Kodai answered, feeling slightly uncomfortable. "Listen, do you know where Darlayah lives? We are meant to be heading out with her this morning."

"Oh…uh…she lives in Breezehome. Just ask the townsfolk, they'll know where it is."

* * *

Darlayah crept up the stairs and into her room, in which Cicero had slept the night in. As she opened the door, the jester suddenly perked up, looking mad and cheerful as normal. "Listener!" he exclaimed happily as he waltzed over to Darlayah, who was smiling. She was glad he was feeling better. Cicero quickly hugged the Listener with a giggle, and joyfully skipped down the stairs to the kitchen. Darlayah stood fast, blushing with embarrassment.

Realising what had to be done that morning, Darlayah shut her bedroom door and searched her chests for something to wear, as she was still wearing her Nightingale clothing except the hood, boots and gloves. She pulled out her Brotherhood armour, gazing longingly at it, before throwing it aside, knowing it would be too risky to wear it around Benedict and the Dragonborn.

Some apprentice mage-robes surfaced, and Darlayah pulled it out of the chest, along with some boots and a novice hood, quickly stripping off her previous armour and throwing on the robes. She threw a quiver onto her back, and slung a belt around her waist. She was all set to go.

Cicero was waiting for Darlayah, bowing a little as she came down the stairs. "Oh, hi Cicero. Had any breakfast yet?" she asked him, and he shook his head.

"Humble Cicero is waiting for the Listener to eat first." he said, smiling.

"Thank you, but you really must have something. I'm not hungry at the moment." Darlayah replied with a sigh. "And I told you before not to call me that."

"Okay!" Cicero said, but to which statement Darlayah did not know.

As she walked past, the jester grabbed her hand, causing her to stop and turn around. "Thank you!" he said, grinning like an idiot.

"For what?" Darlayah asked, confused.

"Oh, for the song, silly! Remember? Poor Cicero was scared, and you sang a beautiful song. You're very kind." Cicero replied, laughing as Darlayah's cheeks flushed red.

"Oh…you're welcome." she said, staring at the floor awkwardly.

"Well...we better get ready. I'm sure the dragon-man and his friend will be here soon!" Cicero said happily, going to the shelves to help himself to food. Darlayah rolled her eyes, chuckling a little as she went to find her daggers.

"Dawn…?" Just as Darlayah found her two Daedric daggers, Cicero's shrill voice called for her attention. "Daaaawwwn?"

"Yeah? What is it?" she replied, strapping her weapons to her belt.

"What was the song called? The one you sung for me?" the Imperial asked, before scoffing down a chunk of goat cheese on bread. "Cicero liked it."

"Oh, that song was one my mother taught me. She was a bard, so she wrote a lot of songs and poems and taught them to me. That one was called _Widow, _I think…"

"Ooh! Could you teach it to me? Please?" Cicero asked, hopping from foot to foot impatiently.

"Maybe." Darlayah said, shrugging with a smile.

_Knock knock knock._

A sharp knock on the door startled Darlayah. "That'd be the door." Cicero commented, grinning.

"Just wait a second…" the Listener called, heading towards the door and ignoring Cicero.

_Knock knock knock knock knock!_

"Oh, for the love of Mara, I heard you the first ten times." Darlayah growled as she pulled open her wooden door, unlocking it first. Ben and Kodai stood waiting, all armoured up and ready to leave. "Cicero! Come here, we're going now."

"So how did your night go? Have _fun?_" Benedict sneered, grinning at his own remark. Darlayah fought back the temptation to strangle him.

"Come on, we have another short trip left." she said instead, pretending to ignore the Imperial.

* * *

Gabriella urged her horse to travel faster, galloping past the trees and shrubs, travelling with the wind towards Whiterun.

The dark elf had been beginning to wonder about Darlayah, worrying about leaving her with the madman known as Cicero. The last she heard of her was that she had arrived in Whiterun with some 'hero', and was setting off again that morning. With that note in mind, Gabriella had left immediately, hoping to catch up to her. She also had some news to tell from Astrid, who had reconsidered the Night Mother's apparent request to speak to a man in Volunruud.

Soon enough, the walled city of Whiterun rose over the horizon. The golden sun left a black, streaky shadow across the plains in the shape of Dragonsreach and it's surrounds, as it had only just risen. The stables appeared full, hopefully meaning that Darlayah hadn't left yet with whoever she had been travelling with.

When Gabriella finally reached the Whiterun stables, she saw Cicero's horse, and three others, which meant that the breton and her companions hadn't left yet, or they had left the horses behind. Gabriella hoped it wasn't the latter.

She dismounted her horse, before observing each and every horse at the stable. There were two brown horses, both of which looked rather unkempt. There was a beautiful silvery-grey mare, and a dark bay gelding. All of these horses were tacked up and ready to be ridden.

"Can I…help you?" Jervar, the stable-boy, tilted his head in confusion at the dark elf in front of him. She was wearing her assassin robes, which made Jervar feel most uncomfortable.

"Actually, yes. You can. Have you seen a breton, a clown, and possibly some sort of warrior this morning? Have they left? Have they even come here yet?" Gabriella asked, folding her arms and staring coldly at the Nord.

"You mean Dee? Oh, she had three guys with her. The Dragonborn, some tall imperial, and a…clown, yes. They left here this morning. They just came to feed their horses."

Damn. They'd left without their steeds. Gabriella sighed. "Do you know where they're going? Or must I track them myself?" she said with a hint of anger in her tone. Jervar took a step back.

"Oh, they, uh…went up the rode to Ivarstead. You know…the Dragonborn…Greybeards…mountain…" Gabriella took all the information in, before suddenly mounting her horse again and riding off without another word, much to Jervars relief.

"I should have let you know," he muttered under his breath as the elf left, "you aren't the only one looking for that breton."


End file.
